Powerless Powerful
by DOShae
Summary: No two mutants are created equal, and Ted Johnson definitely did not feel equal to any mutant. Although technically not a mutant, Ted got invited to stay at the Xavier Institute because something very interesting and unique took up residence in his head. Treated as a second-class, even third-class citizen in the mansion, he ultimately learns his real status. (LGBTQ Themed)
1. Chapter 1

The universe is a hateful place. If you do not believe me, then simply look around. Humans represent epitome of universal hate. We managed to perfect it on every level. What makes it even more messed up is our capacity to be so good and kind, noble even. Some call it a balancing act, but it really is just a con job pulled by the universe. It's horrible and hateful, and most people realize it so fully they tend to ignore it and go plugging along as if the truth didn't stare them right in the face.

I look in the mirror and I see the truth. Nothing about me seems remarkable. I stand five feet, ten inches tall. Brown, straight hair sits on my head. Medium brown irises dot my eye. The skin stretched over my one-hundred and sixty-eight pound body is semi-pallid with ruddy spots here and there. My hands look too large for my arms, and my nose comes with wide nostrils and a narrow bridge. Putting on any uniform seems to make a mockery of its ideals.

One uniform in particular is a black and yellow leather affair given to me after Professor Charles Xavier finally figured out I really did possess a power, but did not actually own it. They made me an X-Men not so I could help out, but rather to keep an eye on me and make sure this power did not get activated to its fullest degree. What sort effed up power do I hold that makes them monitor me at all times? Part of the answer lies in the name Hank McCoy gave me: PAB. Yes, PAB. It spelled in all upper case letters. Why? It's part of one of the equations for the law of total probability: P(A) = P(A∩B) + P(A∩Bc). See where he got the PAB?

Do not ask me to explain the equation. Go look it up on the internet. If it makes sense, great. If not, worrying about it is pointless. I barely understand what it means. However, I do understand this power. It functions in two unique ways that, when employed together, produce some very interesting results. Firstly, it can alter the chance of success to either 99% or 1%. However, it can also modify the chance of failure to either 99% or 1%. Yes, it can affect one, the other, or both; however, it usually works in a tandem configuration of one reinforcing the other. The two might look the same, but – trust me – they are not. Simply reducing a person's chance of success to 1% does not automatically guarantee failure; insomuch as increasing a person's chance of failure to 99% does not automatically eliminate success. However, when those two features get combined, the chance of success or failure becomes so low it statistically becomes one or the other.

How did I get this power? No one knows. They put me through the battery of genetic tests to divine if I carried some augmentation of the mutant gene. It stumped the hell out of them when they could not find the mutant gene in my body. My power, the great minds at the Xavier Institute (or the School for Gifted Youngsters as it used to be called) deduced, apparently came from an external source. At least they offered me that theory. The power got dumped on me by the universe. I never figured out why, and neither did anyone else.

"Kid, you're every nerds' wet dream," Logan said to me after threatening to kill me and finding himself unable to land a strike on me as his body and claws refused to do as directed.

We stood in one of the danger rooms where Professor Xavier decided to conduct a few tests shortly after I arrived. He dressed in his customary blue suit with the tweed vest as he sat thinking in his high-tech titanium chair. Logan wore slightly dingy black jeans and a tank-top tee-shirt he called a 'wife beater.' The black leather lineman boots he wore did not even raise him to eye level with me. I never realized the height deficiency afflicting him because he always looked so much bigger on television.

"It seems to operate with or without his active participation," Professor Xavier said while watching Logan (alright, the Wolverine) attempt to slice me to ribbons. "Theodore…"

"Ted," I grumbled at him, and then one of his wheelchair wheels got stuck.

"Did you just do that?"

I half-nodded and half-shrugged. It looked like I caused it to happen, but did not know for certain. Logan grunted his sarcastic laugh.

"Not much good in a fight, huh?" The animalistic man asked after he got done laughing at me.

"Do not retaliate, Theo…" the professor began.

"Ted!" I loudly exclaimed, and his control stick shorted out and vomited sparks.

"Tied to his emotions," Logan rumbled and crossed his arms over his broad, hairy chest. His nipples stuck out through his thin tee-shirt like peanuts glued to quarters.

"Apparently so," the bald man rejoined. "Tell me, The… Ted, when did your powers begin to manifest?"

I shrugged.

"Could you be more specific?"

"I don't know," I flatly rejoined. "Maybe a two or three years ago."

"Perhaps that's when you noticed them at work?"

"Sure. Fine."

I saw the Wolverine squint at me, chomp the end of his unlit cigar, before he asked: "So you never noticed things didn't go right for other people when you got mad at them?"

"Oh, you mean like the time my Dad's car brakes went out on the ride home from high school when he grounded me because the door handle to the classroom fell apart in my hand and locked everyone in for three periods?" I rumbled. "Or maybe the time the kitchen stove explode when Mom told me she and Dad might be getting a divorce? Like the time my business ethics professor's pace maker went on strike when he called me an already-failed businessman? How about when Jimmy Werkmuller couldn't get it up for two months when he laughed at my dick and said average wouldn't cut with him?"

"And he's gay, too," Logan muttered.

His fist blades shot out of his hands and pierced the bicep on one arm and the tricep on the other. One blade went through a bone on his left arm. When he tried to retract his claws, he could not. I could feel the hot spot in the back of my brain refusing to change the malfunction probability.

"It wasn't a value judgment, kid," he grunted at me and managed to free his right hand. The claws remained extended even though I saw him working to pull them back.

"Ted, please. This is unbecoming," Professor Xavier said to me.

I struggled to calm down. It took almost a minute before Logan could remove the blade from the bone. He glowered at me. The first and second blades on both hands retracted, leaving the smaller third ones exposed.

"How long is it going to stay like this?" The exceptionally frightening man yelled at me.

"Until he is no longer angry at or fears you, Logan," the professor calmly said. "Maybe you should remove yourself for the time being."

I watched Logan's furry eyebrows all but stitch themselves together before he turned and stomped out of the danger room. When the door whooshed shut, Professor Xavier glanced at me. I could feel him probing me. When he got to the part of my brain that seemed to control my power, the front and rear wheels on his chair popped off. The paraplegic man fell to the floor, he bumped his head, and the chair toppled on top of him. Once the professor managed to push it off himself, he also began to massage his temples.

"I don't think this is a natural part of you, Ted. Your ability appears to be implanted and, from what I can gather, operates outside of your full control," Professor Xavier said once he sat upright on the floor. "However, it does appear you can aim it in a direction."

"Yeah, maybe a little," I mumbled.

"Well, I would be cautious with it it, were I you, and you shouldn't be to concerned…"

"I'm not," I interjected in a bored voice. "Does this mean I can go back to college now? I've already missed a bunch of classes I can't make up."

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Johnson. Fortunately you came to the right place," the man said, and then his wheelchair fell on him again. The professor shoved it to the side. "Please, refrain. We can enroll you Westchester Community College as you get situated and then transfer you to a four-year university. All expenses paid of course."

I immediately knew my parents would agree. My college education stressed the family finances and their relationship. However, explaining to them why I would go and live in a ritzy house with a bald man surrounded by a bunch of kids screamed of daddy issues I did not want to entertain. Professor Xavier, however, managed to convince them of my need to transfer to Westchester and take up residence at the mansion. They seemed overly happy for me and pleased with the opportunity. It appeared reasonable to assume the professor did something to their brains during the discussion and review of the grounds. They never even questioned the odd assortment of individuals, especially Dr. McCoy who never changed form for them, and they radiated a sense of contentment.

"You mixed up their minds, didn't you?" I inquired of the man when my parents left with a promise to ship nearly all my belongs to the mansion.

"Just a bit," he admitted as we waved to them from the elevated porch overlooking the cul de sac driveway. "They were concerned about you to begin with, The… Ted. I simply put them at ease with the knowledge you found a place where you needed to be."

"Right," I said and turned around.

The control servos on the left side of his chair stopped functioning, and he began to travel in a circle as the accelerator went on the fritz. Professor X began yelling for help as I wandered into the mansion. Uncertainty as to what I faced in the coming weeks and months assailed me. As a result, my powers took it out on the professor and all the light switches I passed.

For those who never saw the Xavier Institute, it resided in an enormous late Victorian-period mansion with granite, marble, and sandstone facia, slate roofs, trellises everywhere, statues adorning crenulated cornices and crestings, leaded glass, stained glass, wavy glass, copulas, towers, turrets, and just about everything one would expect. Inside wood coated everything: banisters, ceilings, counters, floors, walls, and two of the students. All of it gleamed from excessive polishing. It looked old, but I found out the mansion got rebuilt at least three times over the course of years it served as the institute headquarters. The underbelly of the mansion housed high-tech classrooms, laboratories, and training rooms. All of it covered in brushed aluminum and steel: basically, the exact polar opposite of the main house. The dichotomy did not seem to bother anyone else but me.

I stayed at the mansion during the remaining three and a half years of my college education. I took classes in the spring semester to qualify for my eventual certified public accountant examinations and license. For two or three weeks each summer I returned home to San Diego to enjoy the company of my parents, and younger siblings. Whatever voodoo Xavier did to my parents fractured their relationship with my brother and sister. He made them far nicer people than in reality, and it turned my sister in a conspiracy theorist and my brother into a pothead. When they learned I continued to pursue a business and accounting degree, my brother Jim and sister Mary latched onto me as the most normal aspect of our family. Neither knew what lurked inside of me. They begged to come visit me in Westchester, but I got forced into repeatedly disappointing them. Year by year until I graduated with my bachelor's degree I saw them deteriorate as they could not explain the transformation of our parents.

"My brother's gonna be a junkie and my sister will probably join the Neo-Nazis," I exhaled into my beer mug.

"That bad, huh?" Doug rhetorically asked.

"Xavier fucked up my parents. They haven't been the same since I started living at the mansion."

"I think he did that to all our parents."

Doug Ramsey, known professionally as Cypher, became one of my closest friends since neither of us boasted a very useful mutant power. He could almost instantly understand any biological or machine language printed or spoken. It sounded useful, but it often served a limited function. He acted as support for missions. I, on the other hand, possessed a very potent power, yet I lacked one iota of real control over it. The power would not activate unless I felt directly threatened by a person or situation, and then it would go after anyone near me without seeming regard for friend or foe. I wrecked more than one mission. I got banned from missions. Professor Xavier looked at me with disappointment in his eyes on a regular basis. Over the years I destroyed over three dozen of his chairs. As a result, Doug and I became friends since we both occupied a very low social strata at the institute.

"You know I'm a prisoner?" I said as I slurped up more beer.

"You are not, Ted," Doug rejoined and drained a quarter of his mug.

"Oh, yeah? I tried to tell the professor I was moving out, and he said he didn't think it was a good idea. Right when I started to agree with him the battery in his chair exploded and set the curtains in his office on fire," I reported.

My friend shook his blonde-haired head and said: "So he literally tried to change your mind."

I rolled my eyes at the tired pun.

"Hey, at least you got a business degree out of it," he reminded me.

"Oh, right, and now I'm the accountant for the institute."

The handle fell off of Doug's mug.

"Jesus, Ted, calm down. It's not my fault. Stop throwing Murphy at me."

Within the first month when I began to live at the mansion, it became quite clear I could not exert much control over my ability. Although it did not start with Doug, he latched onto the nickname people gave to my power: Murphy. They named it in honor of Murphy's Law since it could wreak havoc with little provocation. Ororo tried to counsel me regarding my sensitivity to even simple looks thrown my way. My power made it difficult to make friends. Some of the younger students openly feared it. Only Hector and Marrow, and Stacy when she decided to drop in for visits, did not make an issue of my ability. We formed a small circle with Doug since others tended not to like or respect us. I heard some call us the Ex-Exes. The wiring in their bedrooms tended to fry when I overheard the group nickname, so I rarely heard it after the first year. For reasons I do not understand, my power never reacted to the name Murphy. I think deep down I agreed with assessment.

"Besides, at least you got a job. I just sit around staring at a computer screen and play games with Babelfish," Doug grumped.

"And the fact I work in the sub-sub-basement is better than your lab how?" I challenged and directed Murphy at one of the taps at the bar.

"Motherfucker!" The bartender yelled as Natural Light, a beer that should never be placed on tap, sprayed into the air.

Doug turned around. It gave me the chance to stare at his butt for a few seconds. He knew I developed a low-grade crush on him over the years, but he persisted in being unerringly straight. At least two or three times a year he needed to tell me to back off, usually after we spent a night drinking, but – and much to his credit – he never ended our friendship. I think Doug actually and honestly liked me.

"Christ, is that going to be a mess," Doug said as he spun around, caught me looking, and frowned. "No more drinks for you."

"I'm horny," I grumbled.

Doug shook his head and rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah. You're not gay."

"Dude, if I faked it and lead you on, Murphy would kill me. You think I forgot what happened on your Grindr date?"

"Or The Palomino Club. Xavier is still pissed off about that one," I sighed.

"Ted, the place burned to the ground. You should be thankful no one got killed," Doug stated and his gray eyes bore into my brown ones.

"Murphy doesn't kill. At least not on purpose."

"You hope."

We conducted a small stare down while the bartender continued to swear at the tap he could not get under control. The few other patrons in the bar chuckled at the unfolding beer drama. Doug and I usually picked a weeknight to go out drinking since the place would not be crowded and it would keep my power in check.

"When was the last time you really tried to control him?" Doug asked after we heard a glass break.

I gulped down some more of my beer, a Samuel Adams lager, and replied: "You know the good professor makes me try at least once a month. My question is when is Xavier going to publicly admit Murphy doesn't belong to me?"

"Just 'cause a couple of tests say…"

"Almost four years of testing and not once did I ever show any mutant gene," I interjected in a hushed voice. "McCoy is getting sick of running 'em. Anyway, the professor suspected it from the start."

"Maybe you should let Rogue touch you and really find…"

Four glasses crashed to the floor behind the bartender who continued to fight with the spraying tap. The man swore even louder. The waitress said she would go get the broom and mop.

"Or maybe not," Doug quickly amended. "Was that you or him?"

"I think me. I like Rogue and all, but she scares me. The idea of letting her touch me… touch… Murphy scares the shit out of me. God, think what would happen if she could absorb him and not be able to control it?"

A ripple of fear ran across my friend's face. He absentmindedly scratched at the tabletop with a fingernail. It did not distract his thoughts.

"See? Right there. That's what gets him going half the time," I said and pointed the last traces of Doug's reaction. I drank down the last of my bottle. I looked at Doug. "One more?"

"Go ahead. You're not hard to fight off when you're drunk."

"I don't want to just get drunk: I need to get laid. Murphy might actually calm down if I could," I sternly told him. "What about you? How come you're not complaining about blue balls?"

He grinned, and I knew he thought of either Hank or Kurt.

"I didn't say fuzzy ones."

Doug started laughing. I smirked. Time and again I reminded myself I would be lost without Doug's friendship. He did not care in the least about my being gay and lightly crushing on him every once in a while. Murphy concerned him, but not to the point it drove him away. Doug wanted to understand my power. The notion it did not belong to me and worked on principles I could not fully explain or understand myself caused him worry. I think he worried about me, Ted Johnson, and not the X-Men PAB.

"The community college is nice to me," he said after he got done laughing, but the wry grin never left his face.

No one could deny Doug possessed a handsomeness that often slipped into cuteness. His facility with languages gave him a slightly exotic accent. His blonde hair, gray eyes, athletic build due to the hours and hours of physical training we all endured, and a truly polite demeanor would appeal to non-mutant women. His rather superfluous power made him the butt of jokes at the mansion, but those receded over the years when I started aiming Murphy at his detractors. Professor Xavier did not quite know what to do with us in those situations. However, the teasing eased.

"Alright, you're a year older than me, so some of those girls are five years younger than you… some probably younger," I obliquely warned.

"There are older students there, Ted, and I do have a taste for, ah, mature women."

"Jesus Christ, Doug, please tell me you're not robbing the rocking chair!"

"Ew, no, you sick perv!"

We glanced at each other, and started laughing again. The change of topic put Murphy at rest. The tap stopped acting up. The bartender wrapped a tower around the spigot after he wiped himself down. The waitress finished sweeping the broken glass into a dust pan. The few patrons went back to whatever conversations occupied them before the ruckus began.

"Is this our life, Doug?" I inquired and stared at my empty bottle.

"Is it that bad?" He countered.

"It's… boring."

"A bored mind belongs to a person lacking creativity…" Doug began to say.

"Imagination…"

"And drive," he finished in a pretty fair imitation of Professor Xavier and then drained the last of his pilsner. "Know what I don't get?"

"Among the millions of other things, what?" I responded.

"Fuck off, Ted," Doug grumbled through a smile. "How come Murphy never once blew up your phone?"

"It did," I quickly answered. "Remember that old Nokia I had before I got the Galaxy?"

My friend nodded.

"The auto-correct didn't work right in text messages, and – poof! – Murphy shattered the screen. Had to trade up after that, and I like the Galaxy."

"You boys good?" The waitress asked as she walked up to us.

"What's the damage?" Doug asked.

"You or both?" The woman, perhaps five years older than me, requested clarification as she picked at her beer-damp shirt.

"Individually."

"Nine for your and twenty-one for him."

"He's buying," Doug quickly said.

The bottom of his beer mug cracked.

"You're still buying," he refused to relent.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out my wad of bills. I peeled off forty dollars and handed it to her. The woman's eyes never left the beer mug as her fingers curled around the bills.

"Change is yours. You take care of us," I politely said to her.

"Thanks," she rejoined and seemed to snap back into the moment. "Sorry 'bout the commotion. You boys have a good night. Need me to call you an Uber or a Lyft?"

"We're good," Doug said and held up his phone.

"Come back and see us," the waitress said as she headed off.

"Ten dollar tip?" Doug asked me when she moved out of earshot.

"Not her fault they charge seven-fifty for a Sam Adams. I'm surprised the Stella only ran four-fifty."

"They poured it out of a bottle. Plus you know they always charge more for a long neck craft beer."

"Sam Adams isn't a long neck," I tried to correct him.

He simply eyed me, and I knew I made a mistake. I glanced around the bar. The other customers seemed calm. They ignored us, and we ignored them. I knew why Doug and I chose to drink on a Wednesday evening, but the others did not seem to be propelled by similar reasons. Yet somehow our various circumstances seemed to mesh. A single mood floated through the bar.

"Walk, cab, or bus?" Doug asked.

"Eh, walk. It's a pretty decent night," I chose.

"No rush, eh?"

I shook my head.

We headed out of the bar. The mansion sat almost one mile off the main road, and the bar resided less than half a mile from turn-off. At the rate we walked, Doug and I could return to the institute in roughly half an hour. I wanted to clear some of beer fumes out of my head. Whenever I went back a little tipsy, Murphy became even more unpredictable.

As we walked down the street dotted with street lamps, Doug glanced around.

"What if we get jumped 'cause someone thinks we're a couple?"

"Doug, we're X-Men. We've been trained to fight," I reminded him.

"Oh, when was the last time you actually got into a fight?"

I kept walking and shrugged.

"Wait a sec! That's right: Murphy usually gets involved. No one will be able to land a punch on you, but I'll be a sitting duck!" Doug complained.

"Um, not really. I think Murph knows you're my closest friend, so he kind of looks out for you. Besides, I can nudge it enough to make someone land on their ass."

"You really think Murphy likes me?"

I nodded.

"Cool," he whispered and then narrowed his eyes. "It's because you like looking at my butt, right?"

"Probably," I said.

"That is such a bad joke coming from you, PAB."

"God, I hate that code name. I don't even completely understand the equation."

"Ted, you got banned from missions, so no one is ever going to use it," Doug told me.

"I know, except it's on the official register of X-Men," I whined.

"Well, just have Murphy pants anyone who calls you that."

"You are such an idiot," I snapped

From the corner of my eye I saw Doug frown. I looked up at him without a single trace of apology on my face. I simply stared at him while we continued to walk. Ten seconds later I saw the light go on in his head.

"Jesus, I am so sorry, Ted. I didn't mean to give him any ideas," Doug apologized instead.

"It's not me you'll need to apologize to if it happens," I rejoined in a bland manner. "Besides, it's a pretty good non-lethal tactic. I'd rather have him do that than drop a house on anyone."

"Sorry, man: I just don't see you in pigtails and a blue pinafore."

"You cannot say you're not gay if you know exactly how Judy was dressed in that movie. If you ever use the word gingham, you have to go to bed with me," I warned.

Doug began to laugh, but I heard a nervousness underneath it. I elbowed him. He shook his head.

"Do you have any idea how much stuff I look up on the internet? I've learned so much shit I never wanted to know… and knowing what she wore as Dorothy is just the tip of the iceberg," Doug informed me.

"Dude, that is just sad."

"Says the man who burned down a gay bar 'cause the queens weren't nice to him."

"Jesus, we're both sad," I amended.

Doug did not argue with me. We continued our walk to the mansion. We took the side road leading to the institute. The warm summer night made us sweat along the way. Our conversation drifted through a number of forgettable topics. The easy companionship between us made me resent other people who treated us as unimportant or, at worst, expendable. Many times over the years I wished Doug would turn out to be gay because I knew I could really fall in love with him. However, sexuality lay outside of Murphy's influence since it appeared to be decided in utero. The most I could ever expect I experienced right at that moment: walking along and talking with my best friend.

"Hey, I got four hours left to fulfill on this quarter's training quota. Want to hit the danger room with me on Saturday?" Doug asked when we exhausted the debate about whether Beer Nuts actually constituted an organic food.

"Sure. I don't have much else planned," I accept the invitation.

"I think Marrow and Hector need to finish their time, too, so how about a foursome?"

"Please don't say it like that. It makes my balls hurt."

"Sheesh, dude, you really need to figure something out," my friend commiserated with me.

"Tell me about it," I agreed.

"What about Bobby or Vic?" Doug inquired.

"Um, Ex-Ex here."

Doug scowled at my use of the phrase. While he never got officially banned from missions, the fact he simply waited either at the base or in the jet to be called upon to complete a quick translation did not raise him too far above me. Thus, the other gay X-Men tended to look down upon me as a failed compatriot, and not one ever showed the slightest interest in me. Sometimes Murphy lashed out at them. More than once the target managed to figured me out as the source of whatever minor calamity befell them. It did not do me any favors or make me any more desirable in the eyes of other males in uniform.

"Lay off it, Doug," I begged him when he continued to be perturbed by the much hated nickname.

"You're still an X-Men," he informed me.

"Who's not allowed to go on missions and only gets to balance the books for Xavier and the institute. Wow! Big fucking superhero here!"

"You sound like Marrow."

That sent a jolt through me. Both Doug and I liked Marrow even though her basic attitude could be quite acidic. We worked on getting her to view her particular situation and the world in a more positive light. It often proved a gargantuan task when anyone made any mention of how she looked. However, we both knew she did not truly hate all humans. In fact, her longing to be accepted barely hid under the surface of her dour demeanor. Moreover, our acceptance of her (including Hector and mostly by Stacy) did produce an impact on her. She regularly adopted a friendlier attitude when with us.

"It's like she can't win. If it's not the bones, then it's something else. Like how Stacy's just mad Marrow's got a bigger chest than her," Doug opined, and I silently agreed.

"She really needs to find a new line of work," I added.

Doug nodded.

"Does Stacy ever affect you?" I rhetorically asked and kicked a rock lying next to the asphalt. It skittered off into the distance.

"What do you think, and what about you?" He countered in the same fashion.

"Never."

"What about Teddy or Billy?" He inquired in a knowing manner.

"Jesus, I was just forgetting about what I'm not getting. God, I am so jealous of them," I confessed.

"Um, Ted, everyone knows that. Anytime they're in the mansion you sort of look at them with that sad puppy dog expression."

"If I could just get a half an hour alone with Teddy…"

"Wouldn't that be awkward? I mean, you'd be calling out your own name."

I burst out laughing at the absurdity of the picture it formed in my mind. Doug chuckled as well. My friend did understand my predicament. It seemed like enough gay male superheroes existed; however, each tended to be rather picky about the men that interested in them. In that regard I differed from the others: I doubted I would turn anyone down. The spot in the back of my head where I knew Murphy lived began to buzz and feel warm.

"We really need to change the topic. Murph is getting agitated again," I warned.

"Say, how about them Rangers?" Doug instantly intoned.

"Man, you really hate me, don't you, Doug?"

"Then let's talk about women's beach volleyball."

I shook my head and laughed at his response.


	2. Chapter 2

The Xavier Institute exists on many level both literally and figuratively. It acts as a home away from home for a number of the students, the actual home for even more, a school, a social club, and predominantly a place of safety for mutant-kind where they can feel free. In the figurative sense it exists a symbol of the future. The future is predicated on change and mutants wear the face of change, sometimes to the extreme, of a tomorrow none of us can predict. The mansion represents the dreams and hopes of Charles Xavier for all the peoples of the world. It is, quite literally, a house of many dimensions.

I, however, tended to work in the lowest dimension of the building. The upper floors of the mansion hold the personal and sleeping quarters of the students regardless if boarding during the school year or on a permanent basis. On the main floor most of the standard classrooms reside. The main floor also houses the common room, the large kitchen, and dining hall. Below the main floor is the first basement. A few of the more specialized classrooms can be found there next to the storage and work rooms. Contained beneath that in the first sub-basement lay Cerebro, the computer data center, danger rooms, hospital, labs, and restricted containment areas. Further down is the sub-sub-basement. The oldest foundations of the mansion can still be seen there. Waste and water processing stations churn away day and night along with a small nuclear power generator. Sophisticated prison cells occupy one small section. Finally, a few ancient storerooms got converted for other purposes. One serves as my office. It places me far enough away from critical systems so Murphy can't do any real harm. Mostly.

It should come as no surprise when I say I hate my office. I understand the need to keep me sequestered because of the unpredictable and sometimes volatile nature of my power, yet it feels like a prison to me. The computer and filing cabinets act like cell bars. At the end of each work day I emerge in a foul mood. Strangely enough, I actually enjoy the work entrusted to me. Managing the accounts, the books, the financial records, and the vast holdings of the Xavier Trusts is an awesome responsibility in its own right. Unfortunately, I work alone, and often for ten or more hours a day. It seems Professor Xavier thinks keeping work piled on top of me will somehow nullify Murphy. The man failed to take into account that whatever mood my employment situation puts me in tends to follow me back to the mansion.

Almost needless to say, I got banned from using the elevators. Hank complained about fixing them on a near daily basis at the end of each work day. Instead of addressing my personal situation, I got ordered to use the stairs to return to the house proper. Climbing up three flights of dimly lit and tightly confined circular stairs is a horrible way to leave the office. That alone pissed me off to no end every single day.

"Ted?" Marrow's half-growl of a voice crept around the edge of my office door.

I looked up at her.

"We still on for training tomorrow?"

I nodded.

"Is it safe to come in?"

"You're my friend, Marrow, and Murphy knows that," I told her in the face of her bad joke.

Her pink face and nearly magenta hair pulled her body through the doorway. Over her standard blue and green outfit she fitted a long, oilcloth dust coat. It tended to hide her bony protrusions, and yet she could pull garment from her carriage with little effort. The rubber soles of her boots barely whispered on the floor. Marrow could walk as silently as a cat. People tended to underestimate her. The only exceptions being our circle of friends and the core of the strike team on which she served.

"Someone's having a bad day," she responded as she finished entering and parked one buttock on the edge of my desk.

"Every…"

"Day is a bad day down here," Marrow interjected and completed for me. "You know I hate the fuckers, too."

"Hate?" I questioned with a single word.

"Okay, maybe not hate, but… severely dislike."

I stared at her face. Marrow looked angular and pointy from almost every direction. I found it rather appealing and told her so on multiple occasions. However, it did not carry significant weight since the compliment came from a gay man.

"You could make a protest by hanging out on the tech floor and shorting out Cerebro," she recommended.

"Did that over two years ago. How do you think I wound up down here."

"Really? I thought you were joking about that."

I raised one eyebrow. She shifted uncomfortably on her narrow perch.

"Yeah, yeah," Marrow heaved. "Let me know when you want to burn this place to the ground and take off. I'll be right next to you the whole way."

"You live here, too," I reminded her.

"I don't have to."

The absolute rancor in her voice told me Marrow overheard comments either about her appearance or personality. I closed the ledger on which I worked, sat back, and gave her a friendly smile. Her green eyes looked away from me. It came as a good sign they did not glow red.

"Why do you got to be gay?" She sighed the words.

"Why do you got to be straight?" I countered as I did each time she asked the question.

"Doug said you're feeling, I guess, frustrated."

"Yeah, I am. You?"

Marrow nodded and then: "For fuck's sake, we're all mutants. You'd think we'd be a little nicer to each other."

"Can't argue with that," I remarked.

We sat in silence. Too many times in the past we ran through the same conversation. It tended to anger Marrow and make my power skittish. Even the two sentences we spoke could trigger an outburst on either of our parts. I shoved aside the annoying thoughts. Marrow seemed to do the same.

"Oh, hey, did Murphy freak out last night?" She inquired as though it came as an offhanded notion.

"What? No. I was pretty calm all night. I texted with my sister and brother for an hour or so before I went to sleep. Why?"

Marrow shrugged and said: "I guess some equipment was acting really screwy this morning in one of the labs."

"Which one?" I questioned.

"The one that ties into the VLA, Mount Keck and Palomar. Something happened to the data transfers. They sent me down here to find out if you had a bad night."

"Wasn't me," I confirmed for a second time. "I never go near that lab… even though they're running over budget."

"Assholes," grumbled Marrow.

"Why? 'Cause they sent you to find out?"

She shot me a look, and I saw red around the edges of her irises. I twiddled with a pencil while I waited for her to calm down. What upset her became readily apparent in my mind. It seemed better to address the issue than let it fester. My friend liked to harbor grudges until it made her volcanic.

"Marrow, this doesn't count as spying. Yeah, someone else could've come down here, but… to be honest, I'd rather have you ask me. At least you won't be a dick about it," I said in my most rational voice.

"Maybe," she begrudgingly agreed.

"If you want, we can take out the danger room tomorrow. Make it look like a training accident or… or we really got into it. You know Doug'll join in."

"Hector is coming, too. He's flying back tonight. He went to Puerto Rico to help some relatives for a few days and probably wouldn't mind a little random destruction."

Marrow and I grinned at one another. Of all the teams or associations of mutants who used and destroyed danger rooms, we did not even make the top ten list. However, we deliberately did it. Our wanton destruction always came as a surprise to the tech team when we finished since no one ever thought us that capable of a group. Neither Doug, Hector or me boasted any enhanced physical attributes. Marrow alone proved the bruiser of our unofficial squad. However, letting Murphy loose in a danger room pointed out the weak spots. Marrow would tear pieces out of the ceiling, floor, or walls wherever she saw sparks, and then us other three would stomp it into garbage. Four hours would be more than enough time to dismantle half the room once Murphy took out the cameras.

"Think we'll ever get caught?" I asked on the heels of my private thoughts.

"Who cares? Isn't that what the training rooms are for? 'Sides, maybe it'll wake 'em up about us," Marrow growled, and the feral delight in her tone made me smirk.

After that I begged her to be off so I could finish my work for the day. Even though no one, including Professor Xavier, ever came down to my office to make certain I actually performed my tasks, I took it as a point of pride to work without immediate direction or supervision. Following a year of working in solitude, I structured the books in such a way it would take them weeks to understand if I suddenly decided to quit or stop. I planned on at least another year before I did walk away from the post. In that time I would leave a tangle of records even Hank McCoy would be hard-pressed to decipher. Half the logs I kept in a slowly evolving language I concocted. I wondered if Doug would be able to figure it out. When not working on the books, I read old mission reports under the pretext of doing team audits. I learned so much from those they became part of my work routine. I think I knew the most about the X-Men outside of Charles and his inner circle.

When I at last emerged from the narrow stairwell at the end of the day, several people told me to report to the professor's office as I tried to make my way up the broad staircase to my room. The professor rarely requested my presence before the start of the weekend, so my senses already began to prickle as I headed in the direction of his office. Several electrical outlets and light switches fizzled out of existence as my power changed the laws of probability when I passed.

"Ah, Theo…" he started to say when I entered his richly appointed demesne, a stark contrast to my drab office.

Half the lights in his office popped.

"Ted," he grumbled as he glanced at me, and then looked around at the non-functioning lamps.

"You'll learn sooner or later," I unapologetically stated.

Professor Xavier glowered at me, and another couple of lights went out. It plunged the office into deep shadows since only two lights remained operative. I thought the man should feel grateful Murphy only went after the light bulbs on this occasion since it usually attacked his chair.

"Yes, well, did Marrow speak with you earlier today?"

"Yes, and it wasn't me," I quickly told him.

"You're certain?"

"Oh, I don't know? Do you sometimes accidentally read people's minds and then forget later you did it?"

"The… Ted, please."

"No!" I shot at him, and my neck began to tingle as Murphy went into high alert. "You cram me down in that fucking basement for ten hours a day, you make me work alone, you write me off as a member of the X-Men, and then you want to give me shit about your equipment going haywire. Jesus, go fuck yourself, Charles."

I spun on heel and started to stomp out of his room while trying to decide exactly when I would lose control over my ability.

"Ted, please, I'm sorry, but you do realize how carefully we need to manage…"

His office descended into total darkness as the remaining lights blinked out. His chair turned into a fireworks display, and the man got unceremoniously dumped onto the floor as the wheels on the left side slid off their axles. I could feel the nature of reality shift around me as the odds rapidly changed in various directions. Murphy's Law went into full effect.

"When did you give up on me, Charles? Huh? When?" I snarled at him. "By my reckoning you gave up within the first month because I was an adult and not some kid or teenager you could manipulate. My power cancels out yours and you hate that… and don't tell me you don't."

"It's not like that, Ted. You must understand the potential you possess to for both great good and great harm. If we can't train you to control it, then we must make certain you're not a threat to yourself and others," Charles said, and I could hear him scrambling around on the floor.

"'Fraid I'm going to turn into another Jean?"

"That is completely unfair and uncalled for," his voice rose in both anger and timbre.

"Bullshit. What you're doing to me is exactly the reason why she lost it and why Erik doesn't trust you," I hotly rejoined.

His frustration and ire became a palpable force. The back of my head felt as though I suffered an extreme and localized fever. Even my chin grew warm.

"Careful, Charles. It's starting to feel like a threat against me, and you know I don't react well to fear."

His probe drifted backward, but I sensed he left a wall up around himself.

"Listen, we both know this is becoming… untenable," I said and sighed. Murphy ratcheted down a bit. "It doesn't matter whether you accept it or not, but I'm giving you my thirty-day notice. I'm not happy here. You're not happy to have me here. I'm going to leave."

"You can't," his voice rolled toward me form somewhere in front and to the right of me.

"So I am a prisoner."

"Stop saying that. Think of it as protective…"

"Prison," I interjected. "Is this going to become a fight between us? Are you going to have to kill me to get your way? Is that what you want? Why is it so important to you that I remain here?"

"Because your power isn't natural to you," Professor Xavier quietly said to me. "You don't even know how you got it. Yes, it may have been with you since infancy, but you weren't born with it, Ted. Until we solve that riddle, we can't be certain why you have this power in the first place."

"And you think keeping me captive is going to get you closer to the answer?"

I did not receive a response.

"We both know the longer you keep me here the more miserable I become. My ability is tied directly to my emotional and psychological state, as we all know, and you're playing a dangerous game, Charles. Sooner or later it's going to break whatever nominal control I have over it. What are you going to do then?" I further challenged him.

"I'm hoping you'll listen to reason and agree to voluntarily stay," the man finally answered and, for once, spoke the truth to me.

I stood thinking, staring into the darkness where he lay, and considered what he said.

"At least consider the ramifications of what I am saying," Charles added while my mind churned over the possibilities.

"I'll have a list of demands in the morning. They'll all need to be met. Refuse one and I leave. That's the best I'm going to offer," I told him.

"I can't agree to conditions I haven't seen."

"Then no deal."

I turned and started walking out.

"Bring me the list and at least let us discuss it," Charles quickly relented.

"What I'll bring you won't be unreasonable, but any refusal on your part will be," I retorted. I paused as a new thought hit. "And don't forget Murphy doesn't need me to be conscious to work. If you lay a trap… well, it won't go well for any of us."

"No traps," he grumbled.

"And just to be on the safe side, I'm going to study the PAB equation before I go to bed."

His sense of shock reverberated around me. Everyone knew how much I detested the code name and the formula used to generate it. In the first six months of my confinement to the institute, Hank relentlessly tried to get me to understand it in the hopes it would help me find a path of control over my ability. The hours and hours of tutelage lead to a weakening of my control. The senior members of the X-Men finally begged him to stop since Murphy created chaos for everyone. No one got seriously hurt, but the disruption to daily living proved too much. During that period my power gained it's permanent nickname. Professor Xavier hated the anthropomorphism, but it persisted despite his objections. Even I eventually accepted the name.

That night I sat in my room and drafted the list of conditions. It essentially broke it down to basic civility. I wanted a main floor office if the professor wished for me to continue as house accountant and business manager, and that included back pay for previous work. I wanted a regular work schedule that began in the morning and ended at least by six o'clock in the afternoon if not earlier. I wanted to be assigned to an X-Men team with some real input and responsibilities. I wanted to conduct my own training regarding Murphy without any interference from the teaching staff or senior members. I wanted a halt to the routine genetic testing since I suspected it served more than one purpose. I wanted to get a master of business administration degree, and it did not matter who paid the expense. I wanted the freedom to come and go from the mansion as I saw fit without needing a three-week clearance process or a chaperon. I would, of course, take my slate of responsibilities into consideration before going anywhere. Mostly, I wanted autonomy. Mainly, I wanted basic respect for me as a person.

"He won't agree to this," I said to myself as I slid the sheet aside and opened my laptop to begin a separate line of research.

P(A) = P(A∩B) + P(A∩Bc) stared me in the face. I understood the basics of the equation in that it attempted to solve the probability for event A when lacking sufficient probability factors by comparing it to a related or similar event, B. It created an intersection of probabilities that, hopefully, revealed a close approximation of when to expect event A. I never understood why Hank thought it applied to me since I seemed to affect only two variables: chance of success and chance of failure. My mind drifted back through time.

"It does apply," Hank told me in a tight voice just over three years before. "You can affect A and you can affect B…"

"Always at the same time, but hardly individually," I argued back once I grasped the fundamentals of the equation. "So it's not the same. I somehow subconsciously know the probability of A and of B. This equation doesn't make sense for me."

The brilliant big blue animal grunted in frustration. He wanted to me perceive it as he did, and I could not. Frankly, I did not care, and I think that got to him. Hank stood at the white board, dry erase marker in hand, and tapped it in a rapid fashion leaving an ever-growing black spot.

"But what if you can only affect one or the other…"

"When does that ever happen? My ability naturally runs in tandem. Getting it to affect only failure or success is really difficult," I cut him off before he presented a theoretical case that, as of yet, never materialized.

"You need to prepare for the possibility," he huffed.

"So you finally admit success and failure aren't the same?"

We argued incessantly over that point. I watched as the muscles on his back bunched up under his lab coat as the irritation set in. I needled him on the issue whenever I could. Over the preceding weeks, we developed an oil-and-water dynamic. Hank considered me intellectually lazy, a fair charge I privately acknowledged, and I thought him a total blowhard stuck on his own sense of perceived superiority. I could get him to loose his cool if I pressed that point too fervently or too often.

"They are opposite sides of the same coin," Hank countered.

"They're two different coins," I challenged.

He turned and threw a baleful look at me. The left lens of his glasses popped out, dropped to the floor, and shattered. His eyes rolled in reaction, and then he lost the right lens.

"Dr. McCoy," I grumbled his name and refused to apologize for the loss of his glasses. "I think you're assuming everything is in a fifty-fifty state. You know? The cat that's both alive and dead at the same time?"

"Go on," he prompted me in a clearly angry tone.

The screw holding the right arm of his glasses silently dropped to the floor. The empty frames wobbled precariously in his small nose. A small surge of disappoint rippled through me when they did not slide off his face.

"Nothing is ever fifty-fifty. You're trying to prove all the forces are in equal balance at all times. If I've learned one thing from you…"

Hank snorted in derision, and his the final pieces of his glasses went to join the rest.

"Nothing is ever equal. All the forces pull on each other… against each other, and they use whatever else is around them to try and win. Entropy! You know?"

"Good lord, you have been paying attention," Dr. McCoy mumbled and sounded incredulous.

"Yeah, and go screw yourself," I instantly rejoined. Four months before I gave up on being polite to anyone in the mansion who treated me with any form of condescension or patronizing demeanor. "I think that's why I can either change the odds to either all out or nothing. There's… too much middle ground, so Murphy just sort of says fuck it and goes for the polar extremes."

"Your power is not a separate entity," he tried to correct me since he sided with Professor Xavier in that debate.

I shrugged.

A frown emerged on his blue furry face and he said: "But your theory is not without merit. I'll need to think it over… do some of the math you patently refuse to do."

"I've got other mathematical studies to think about," I countered in an oblique reference to my college studies. I began at Berkeley in the fall term after finishing out my freshman year at Westchester Community College.

"You can always make…"

My memory got interrupted by a knock at the door. Since the door did not automatically swing open as the person on the other made a presumptive gesture, I guessed it to be one of my actual friends. I sat up and faced the door.

"It's open," I loudly said.

"Hey, guy," Hector said after pushing the portal open and stepping inside.

"Hector! Did you just get back?"

"'Bout forty minutes ago. I needed to unpack and debrief with Xavier."

"Debrief?" I queried with real interest.

"How long ago was Maria, and the island is still a mess. My aunt and uncle are really struggling just to get basic services. I couldn't use my cellphone the whole time."

"I kind of figured that's why we didn't hear from you."

Hector closed the door as he walked in. He headed toward my bed and sat down on it. His clothing looked like he dressed for casual Friday in an office: brown loafers, brown socks, khakis, and a long-sleeved plaid Oxford shirt neatly tucked in at the waistline. Furthermore, he did not take to the time to peal the latex appliances off of the exposed portions of his body. It meant he bounced from one meeting to the next. I could tell by the look on his made-up face Hector prepared a list of topics to talk about. Of all my friends, he tended to be the most thoughtful.

"Item one?" I said to him in an automatic fashion.

"Heard you got into it with Xavier," Hector intoned in reaction to my utterance.

"He tried to blame me and Murphy for a data transfer loss that happened last night."

"His office is still dark, so you did more than just burn out the bulbs… oh, and you fried another one of his chairs," my friend told me as a malicious grin settle on his mouth.

"I gave him notice I'm leaving if my demands aren't met," I added.

"He told me."

"And that's why you're here?" I asked while crossing my arms across my chest in a defiant manner.

He shook his head, causing his reddish-brown hair to wave back and forth before saying: "Yes, but mostly no. Marrow and Doug scheduled training for tomorrow, and I need the hours. Feel like sticking around for more than four hours?"

"You're assuming I'm not leaving right after my meeting with Charles."

"Do you really think they're going to let you walk out of here?"

We eyed one another for a moment. It always took me a while to get used to his latex face since I normally saw Hector in his natural state. My eyes flicked back and forth over his features.

"Fine," Hector sighed the word.

He reached up and under the collar of his shirt. Seconds later the false layer of skin started to pull away. Underneath I could see bone and muscle tissue. Years before I asked how he could sleep without eyelids, and he confessed he wore a hood when he went to bed. Hector never asked for sympathy regarding his mutation. However, he retained a sensitivity to the reaction of others. In that regard it made him a perfect fit in our little band of unwanted X-Men.

"Much better," I said when at last he appeared normal to me.

"You know you're one of the few people who prefer me like this?"

"You tell me that all the time."

"I still don't get why?" Hector questioned for the millionth time.

"Because it's who you are, and I don't need or want you hiding in front of me. Besides, you know I think it's cool," I replied as I did for the millionth time.

If he blushed I could not tell, but he dropped his gaze as a different grin took root. I could tell by the way his muscles moved. Hector did not possess visible lips, so I learned to read what the different muscle positions meant over time.

"Thanks," he mumbled.

"Okay, so we got item two out of the way. What else?" I asked because my friend did not like to draw attention to himself for too long.

"Un-uh. You still didn't answer me about what you're going to do if they try to keep you here," Hector intone and returned to the question I wanted to avoid.

"Murphy gets free rein."

His eyebrows, invisible or not, raised in surprise.

"Seriously, I won't do anything to contain it," I told him.

"They might ice you," Hector whispered.

"Murphy doesn't need me to be awake. You know that. Shit, once I'm unconscious he can go on whatever rampage he wants."

Hector stare at me in silence for an extended period. The scrutiny began to make me feel uncomfortable, and I fidgeted. Ten seconds felt like a long, long time.

"What?" I finally barked when my fingers began to itch.

"Are you beginning to realize how powerful this is, Ted?"

"You sound like Xavier and McCoy."

"I'm serious," Hector rounded on me. His spine appeared to snap into place as he sat upright and gazed at me in as somber an expression as a skinless face could assume. "I don't give a crap what they think or say, but I worry about you. You're gonna get yourself killed."

"You think my power will let that happen?"

He shrugged and continued to look concerned. His response touched me. It meant Hector cared.

"Look, it's not… alive or really thinking. It's reactionary for the most part. It's not a natural mutation. You know they've checked at least a dozen times. All I know is this… thing… Murphy has done everything in its power to keep me alive. Every time someone pushes hard against me, it pushes back even harder," I explained yet again.

"And if it kills everyone in the mansion?" He asked in a low tone.

"It won't do that. You know it won't," I refuted. "God, Hector, it protects you and Doug and Marrow and Stacy. How many times does it have to prove that to you?"

"It's not invincible, and neither are you. Just like me you don't have any other defenses. You're just a normal guy where this… Murphy took up residence. Sooner or later you're gonna come up against something it can't defend you against."

Hector presented a sobering thought. Logic, the very laws of probability that gave Murphy life, dictated it would fail at one point. Even directing my power in whatever limited capacity I could achieve could not guarantee one hundred percent certainty in either direction. The Hulk might possess limitless power, but I did not.

"I don't want to see you get hurt or… killed, Ted."

I gave him a long glance.

"Maybe it don't mean much to you, but you're one of the few people who treat me normal. That's important to me, and, honestly, I don't want to loose that. Sure, it's a selfish reason, but… that's how I look at it," he clarified.

"I appreciate that," I replied.

"Do you?" Hector blurted.

"Hell, yes, I do! Listen, Marrow keeps pressuring me to just leave, and I think I've had just about enough of this place to take her up on it," I informed him, and he looked a bit shocked. "If it comes down to that, come with us. Please, Hector! You, me, Doug, and Marrow should just get the hell out of here. They treat us like shit when we don't deserve it. We're so far down the line we don't even make the D-list. Xavier isn't doing any us any favors. I don't know what he gets out of keeping us here, but it's not worth it anymore!"

"Are you out of your fucking mind?"

Hector rarely swore, and even more rarely swore at me. It caught me up short. My reaction gave him a window of opportunity.

"Maybe you and Doug can get away with being out there in the real world, but Marrow and I can't," he charged ahead. "You know how people react to both us. So what I am supposed do? Just lay around some cheap apartment all day while you and Doug support me? No, thank you! At least here I can sometimes feel useful."

"What about your latex face?"

"Do you know how expensive that stuff gets after a while? Plus it takes forever to make a face. And it doesn't make me look like a regular person. Sheesh, Ted, you think I don't know why you don't like it? It makes me look artificial… like the Vision or some other android."

Hector remained as perceptive as usual.

"Ted, think this through," my friend continued. "How long are you going to be able to keep Murphy in check before some person pisses you off so bad you bring down a building? Hmm? What if you get jumped for being gay 'cause you sure as heck don't live in the closet? Someone somewhere sometime is going to get to you and it's going to turn into a bloody mess. Is that a risk you want to take?"

My neck began to prickle while I said: "Hector, it's only a matter of time before it happens to this place. I can't take it anymore. We… I get treated like a second-class citizen because I don't have full control over this power. Every day it gets worse and worse for me, and… I'm going to pop one of these days. I think the only reason why Murphy hasn't killed anyone is 'cause I still give some small shit. What do you think is going to happen when I run out of fucks to give?"

"Then aren't you admitting you're a danger to others and yourself? That you can't control it?"

For over three years Professor Xavier tried to get me to admit that very point. Hector, lacking any form of advanced mental control, neatly backed me into a corner where the truth became unavoidable. I felt rattled and even more trapped than ever before. The area in the back of my head started to become warm. Hector stood and walked in front of me. Then he knelt and grabbed me by each of my arms as if he meant to hold me in place. His dark, warm eyes beseeched mine.

"You are worth so much more alive here than you are dead some place else, Ted," he said while I narrowed my eyes. "No, I'm not arguing for Xavier, McCoy or Munro. I'm arguing for myself 'cause you're one of my best friends. One of my only friends. If you leave, I can't go with you."

"And what if staying kills me?"

Hector's mouth fell open. It seemed obvious he did not expect the answer. The notion the headquarters of the X-Men could prove fatal to a person never appeared to enter his imagination. It offered me a new avenue of argument and thought.

"Hector, aren't the X-Men all about freedom and equality and justice? Or is that just bullshit when it comes right down to it or if it becomes inconvenient?"

My friend looked gobsmacked.

"When do we matter? When do we become important enough that it applies to us?" I continued to press my point.

Hector's head twitched back and forth as he seemed to mentally wrestle with the implications of my questions. For three years I suppressed half of what I actually thought. Hearing the words come out of my mouth opened the floodgates to thousands of other opinions and questions. Hector stood and I could see the worry on his invisible face.

"Ted, where else can we go? Maybe it's not perfect, but… there's nowhere else. Is there?" Hector attempted to counter my assertions.

"I don't know," I freely confessed, "but it doesn't matter how you dress it up. At least for me this place is prison. It might be pretty, but that doesn't change what it is. Xavier, McCoy, Rogue, Ororo, Logan… they're the guards, Hector, if I'm not free to come and go as I please. Fuck their reasons. You know?"

The muscles of his face contracted, especially around the jaw line. The ones above his eyes bunched up. We never before discussed the real nature of the institute and the mansion. It often got hid behind soaring rhetoric and noble sentiments. Yet when those got stripped away, a far different picture emerged. It created cognitive dissonance in me, and I suspected it prove even worse for Hector. The professor and the institute snatched him away from certain death and protected him. Hence, it would seem like a haven to him. In my case, I got talked into staying and my parents forced into accepting the decision. I did not find freedom with the X-Men. Far from it.

"What about the rest of us?" Hector asked me.

"Are you saying I should stay and fight? Lead a rebellion from within?"

He appeared stunned by suggestion.

"No one is going to follow me. No one except maybe you four are going to defend me. What other choice do I have?" I asked in the broadest possible sense.

Hector opened his mouth, but no words came out. He mutely stared at me. Question after question ran rampant across his visage. He chased after answers. Unfortunately I could only offer a few if any.

"Look, I meet with Charles in the morning. I present my list demands. If he accepts it, then I stay for a little while longer… at least long enough to sort out what to do."

"And if he doesn't?" My friend immediately inquired.

"We already discussed that," I reminded him.


	3. Chapter 3

Doug reserved a danger room for us for ten o'clock. My meeting with Charles began at eight in the morning. I figured I would know where I stood long before the two hours spent with the institute founder evaporated.

After waking, showering, and getting dressed in my warm-up suite, I sat at my desk and reviewed the list. I avoided food because, first, I did not feel hungry and, second, I doubted my nerves would allow me to keep anything in my stomach. The sheet of paper bore a small crease on one side where Hector clutched it as he read over my demands. Although he wanted to nitpick the items, in the end he agreed what I asked seemed entirely reasonable. Hector also made me promise to find him after I met with Charles regardless of the outcome. He said I owed him that much. I did not disagree.

At five minutes before the eight o'clock hour I stood outside of Professor Xavier's office with the list of demands folded and stuffed in my pants' pocket. The warm-up suit did not offer much storage space. I stared at my wristwatch until two minutes before the appointed hour. Then I knocked. It felt promising Charles did not probe outside of the door.

"Enter," his voice echoed from behind the heavy oak door.

I pushed it open. Inside his office he sat in the receiving area. Hank McCoy, Ororo Munro, and Logan Whatever-His-Last-Name occupied three of the chairs. A lone one sat waiting for me. I felt my hackles rise.

"No," I said before anyone else spoke. "This is a private meeting between you and me, Charles. They have no business in this discussion."

"I'd say you're pretty much wrong about that, kid," Logan grumbled.

I turned and walked out the door. I got my answer. The professor assembled a lynch mob, and I would not take part in it. My feet began to move quickly as I aimed for the stairs. I got half way there when I felt a hand on my back. The hallway went dark. The hand stop touching me.

"Ted," Ororo said in her lilting voice.

"No, Miss Munro. I won't be subjected to a tribunal by Charles. He's already negotiating in bad faith," I stated without turning around.

"We're leaving. It's just you and him."

I turned and saw the other lined up behind her. Logan scowled at me, and then winced. Hank simply appeared bored. Ororo seemed concerned.

"So I take it you three are the force meant to stop me from leaving?" I asked as I scanned them.

Logan scowled again. Hank looked everywhere accept at me. Ororo, interestingly enough, met my gaze. I appreciated her direct approach.

"Make no mistake: I will fight back. I will set Murphy free to do whatever it wants. This isn't a threat: it's a promise," I replied to their varied expressions.

"How long do you think you can last?" Logan challenged.

"You know better than anyone I don't need to be conscious for Murphy to operate. So I guess the question is what are the odds you can remain conscious or alive when he begins to pull every last shred of the adamatium off your bones, Logan?"

"Ted!" Ororo snapped a me.

An odd wave of sensation swept through the rear portion of my head. That happened each time I made an indefinite plan for Murphy. I never figured out what it meant.

Logan's face went slack at my utterance. Hank looked horrified. It took about two years, but we finally figured out Murphy would latch onto the most recent suggestions I heard, even if I spoke them myself. For the last year I thought about the senior X-Men and how I would battle them if it came down to it. It started as a silly mental exercise while I worked in my lonely isolation. As my disenchantment grew and I began to think of actually leaving, I realized I would need battle plan. One by one I consider each of the X-Men and figured out a way to turn their strengths against them. Then I framed each idea as a probability factor. Murphy would latch on those thoughts as fast as I could think.

"The ball is in your court. If Charles rejects my demands, I would love to part as friends. If not, then we part some other way. It's your choice," I told her and the others.

Hank grimaced.

"Dr. McCoy, I kept trying to tell you the options are not the sides of a coin. It's more like a set of scales."

"Quite," he said to me. I heard in his voice he figured that out long before me.

"Now I have to meet with Charles," I formally told them.

The trio of senior members, teachers one and all, watched me as I maneuvered around them. I walked back down the darkened hall, many of the students stared at the lights. Several looked at me as I passed. When I returned to the office, I found the professor remained in his position. He appeared mildly surprised when I entered alone and closed the door. I walked half way to the seating area.

"Professor," I said in a calm voice and felt the beginning of tremor in my brain, "what do you think the odds are Hank can survive if all his muscles contract and cramp at the same time or if Ororo's lighting or wind gets trapped in her body?"

"I told them you were no fool," he said in a semi-pleasant manner. "What did you plan for Logan?"

"A long shot chance at removing every last atom of adamatium from his body. I imagine it would take several hours to complete."

Professor Xavier slowly nodded his head and said: "So we've come to this?"

"No, not yet," I replied.

I walked forward and pulled the sheet of paper from my shirt pocket. I held it out to the man before I sat down. The coffee smelled inviting, but I did not trust it. One of the cups tipped over. The professor raised one eyebrow for a moment, and then returned to reading my list.

"I grant you kept it short and deceptively simple," he said after a minute of silence. "I believe we can accommodate most of these requests."

"Thank you for your time, Professor," I said and stood. "Do you have anything to add before I depart?"

"How exactly did you intend to pay for MBA classes?" He asked as though I did not speak.

"I expect to get remunerated for my previous and continued work, minus room and board. I believe the entry level salary for an accountant would be adequate."

"That would make sense, but your previous degree?"

"You agreed to pay for that when I agreed to come live here," I reminded him.

He nodded his head. Professor Xavier's eyes swept over the page again.

"And unsupervised leave?" The man asked as though I made some outrageous demand.

"Yeah, I figured you'd make an issue of that. Kind of hard to feel like an adult when I'm required to take a chaperon with me everywhere. Besides, I know you've let other X-Men go off on their own for months or years at a time. Sort of makes you a hypocrite and a tyrant if you extend that freedom to some and not to everyone."

"But there are real threats out there aimed against you because of your association with us. Have you ever considered the chaperon system is meant to keep you safe?"

"Are you saying I don't have adequate defenses?" I queried.

"No, not at all. Whatever it is that's lodged in your brain does prefer you alive and in one piece. I will be the first to admit it is a formidable power. However, I also have to worry about the safety of others not associated with our organization. Whether you chose to acknowledge it or not, Theo…"

Sparks flew from the control panel of his chair. He sighed in an angry fashion.

"It really isn't that hard to master, Chuck. It's Ted. Just Ted. I'd think after three years you'd start to get it right."

"And this is why I fear you being alone in the outside world. Your power lashes out at anything you perceive as a petty annoyance and grievance. I wonder what would happen if you truly did not like me?" Professor Xavier ruminated.

"Why would you think I like you at all?" I asked in honest bewilderment.

Charles looked at me and blinked. I stood and gaped at him. The notion he thought I liked him proved more galling than amusing.

"Jesus, think about it. You hold me captive. You treat me like garbage. You fear me half the time 'cause you can't get inside my head. You lie to me on a regular basis. Why the hell would I ever… even remotely like someone you?"

"I, ah, never realized your antipathy toward me," he mumbled.

"For a smart man you can be a real idiot at times. I would say a third of the X-Men despise you. You just happen to offer the only job they can find," I informed him.

From the look on his face it appeared I found a weak spot. Years before I became aware Charles Xavier developed something of a messiah complex. He came to believe everyone admired and adored him for his supposed principles. Somewhere in his head the man still clung to the hope Erik Lensherr harbored fondness and respect for him. Professor Xavier tended to turn a blind eye to the evidence that did not support either his personal self-image or his world view.

"Yes, well," he said, but I suspected he convinced himself I erred in my estimation. "Now, what if I no longer wish to employ you as a business manager? From my position, that would solve at least two of the issues on your list."

"Then I get a job somewhere else. You know? Like a real adult," I answered.

"We can discuss that after finalizing the last items. The… Ted, I cannot in good conscience force a team to accept you as a member if they believe your participation will jeopardize them. I think you can appreciate that."

"Says the man who manipulates people's thoughts and emotions all the time for whatever reasons he concocts. You got my parents to accept my coming here and you never seemed to care about the fact it destroyed the relationship between them and my sister and brother. Why should this request be treated any different?"

"Ted, the nature of the X-Men means they go into life-threatening situations. Your inability to control your power adds to that threat. You're asking others to take on an unreasonable level of risk," the man deftly countered.

However, I prepared for that answer and said: "If I got the chance to actually work with a team, get to know them and they got to know me, then Murphy would try to protect them since any threat to them would be a threat to me. Murphy already reacts that way with Marrow, Hector, Doug, and Stacy. Didn't you ever consider my power would become an added layer of protection?"

He did not. Charles frowned ever so slightly. Again his perceptions and world view got challenged in a fashion he did not anticipate. I stood my ground and would not drop the issue.

"You are aware many of the others fear your power."

"And who's fault is that? Not mine. You're the one who keeps me locked away from most of the others who live here. You never, ever gave me a real chance to integrate with a team. You're the one who treats my power like a global threat. God only know what Hank says, and he probably makes it worse," I growled at him and backed up a step.

Professor Xavier's left eyebrow crawled to the middle of his forehead.

"You know what really pisses me off?" I spat and his head ticked from side to side. "You and Hank worked with Alex Summers to turn him into Havoc. He had a real lethal power, and yet you never gave up on him like you gave up on me. Why? Huh? Why were you willing to go to such lengths with Alex and not me?"

"Because Mr. Summers' abilities were natural. His mutation set limits and parameters on his capabilities. You, Ted, are simply a host for a power we barely understand. We, and I am including you in this, have no idea how it will change in the future: whether it will grow stronger, weaker, or out of any form of control. We don't know what it will do to you, and, thus, what it will do to us. That is the nature of the threat you pose," Charles stated in a far more controlled manner than me.

I said nothing for a moment as I honestly thought over what he told me. The flaws in his thinking leapt out at me. One name came to mind. I shook my head.

"Jean Grey. You really are afraid I'll go the Phoenix route, huh?" I asked in as flat a manner as I could muster.

"It is worthy comparison, Ted, and, yes, I am comparing you to her. Perceptive of you."

"Why do you think everyone is stupid?" I grumbled.

"I don't think that at all, but I do have years of experience upon which to rely that you do not," Charles grumbled at me. "I think you fail to take into account the power in your brain alters the fundamental fabric of reality."

"All powers alter reality in one way or the other," I shot back. "What you can do takes it down to a very personal level. At least I'm not literally changing people's minds on a whim."

The way he glanced at me gave me pause. The professor seemed concerned about the current thread our of debate or negotiation. Something in his posture appeared more rigid than normal. I tilted my head to the side a little as I observed him. Then it struck me: Professor Xavier acted nervous.

"For once just be honest with me. What is it about Murphy that scares you so much?" I asked as the logical thread lead in that direction.

"In the time you spent studying with Dr. McCoy, did you ever touch on the basic forces of nature?" He inquired.

"Sure: the weak nuclear force, the strong one, gravity, and electromagnetism," I recited what the blue-furred instructor required me to learn.

"Good. And what lies underneath those?"

"You mean things like quarks, muons… stuff like that?"

"Indirectly. Ted, do you understand the role probability plays in the universe? The chance that one event might happen over another… even at the quantum level?" He queried.

"A little, yeah," I answered and wondered where he wanted to lead me.

"Hmm, yes. Well," Charles said, coughed once, and adjust his sitting position, "even in a state where nothing exists, not even time or space, there appears to be something called quantum foam. It underlies the basic fabric of our universe. The theory posits that even in the complete absence of everything, there is a very, very minuscule chance the quantum foam will produce a particle. Some call it the free lunch hypothesis. However, I believe the theory centers on probability: the probability that something will appear out of nothing."

"And your point?" I asked when he paused.

"That thing in your head you call Murphy is a force made out of a mathematical construct. It doesn't seem to have any physical reality, Ted. It manipulates the probability of an event occurring. While it may not be alive or conscious in any way we can understand, it appears to be in symbiosis with you. What you think and feel directs it."

"And…?"

"And if you thought about it long enough, hard enough, and came to an understanding about the very foundations of our universe and reality, that force in your head could alter it and make the universe and everything in it disappear. Ted, you could erase reality."

I blinked at him.

"And what you obviously don't understand is my telling you that places all of us in extreme danger," he said in a tight voice. "You now possess a concept of what your power can ultimately accomplish if you so desired. Up until now you only focused on trivial personal matters. It seemed logical over time you would begin wonder about this power and to explore it's potential. You are not a stupid person, Ted, and we knew it was inevitable for this very conversation to take place."

"You think I'm capable of wiping out all existence? That's fucked up, Charles, even for you," I replied after finding my voice.

"You may not be capable of it, but that is," Charles rejoined and pointed at the top of my head.

It took around three seconds for me to realize my list of demands paled against the considerations Charles presented to me. My level of ignorance regarding my power seemed to be a protective buffer if what he said bore any truth. I did start to think about Murphy and what it could do. Hank's insistence I learn about the laws of total probability began to make sense. They wanted me to become enlightened in a controlled fashion. When they could not lead this horse to water, they chose to sequester me from most others. I began to frown.

"Yes, the way we treated you was cruel. Yet what else could we do?"

I grew angry and said: "You could've showed me compassion. You could've helped me understand what you really feared. Jesus, Charles, doesn't anyone read Frankenstein around here?"

His eyebrows lifted in question.

"The moral of that story, at least how I see it, is you shouldn't be afraid of the monsters you think are under your bed, but you should be afraid of the monster you create. Did you ever think for one second stuffing me down in that office… cutting me off from the other X-Men… treating me as inferior might be turning me into the monster you feared most?"

"Yes, we did. We calculated it as a necessary risk. We believed if we kept your mind, your ire, focused on us, you wouldn't think about the rest of the world… the solar system… the universe. Replacing all the switches, outlets… my chairs seemed a small price to pay to keep reality intact. When you threatened to leave this time, we saw you meant it."

"You're damn right I'm leaving," I grunted.

"And where will you go? What will you do now that you know what your power can do? Not that long ago the universe faced Thanos armed with the infinity stones. If I recall correctly you witnessed The Snap and got spared… perhaps protected from the extermination. Now you, like Thanos, possess a power to end the universe. Thanos showed restraint and only eliminated half of all living creatures in the universe. Are you capable of such focused determination?" Charles quietly and slowly asked.

I did not fail to note he never threatened to stop me. In fact, he seemed to imply he would do nothing of the sort. I looked down at my hands. His mention of Thanos, a name I only learned about in the institute and the history connected with it, redirected my thinking. The idea I held a power equal to what that insane Titan wielded seemed ludicrous to me. However, instruction from Hank came back to haunt me.

"Gravity might appear to be the weakest of the forces, but it is the mother of all stars, planets, and black holes. We don't really understand it," Dr. McCoy said to me before my lessons with him came to an end.

"Gravity," I said aloud as the memory swirled through me.

"Oh, the gravity of your situation never left me from the day I first learned of you and what your power could do. It's kept me awake more nights than I care to remember," Professor Xavier responded. "If I may, let me ask what you would do in my position when dealing with someone like you."

It felt like a gut punch. Murphy flared into a hot spot in my head. The coffee pot on the table shattered. Warm brown liquid and porcelain flew outward. It sprayed both of us. Charles remained remarkably calm. He glanced around, and then at me.

"You may be surprised to hear this, but I felt both grateful and thankful when your power lashed out at inanimate objects and not people. Trust me when I say your threats against Logan, Ororo, and Hank cause me considerable worry. I suspect you figured out a way neutralize me as well," the man told me.

I nodded.

"Very well. Let me blunt, then. Whether you like it or not, whether it comes as a blow or a shock to you, Ted, you need to accept you are likely one of the most powerful creatures in the universe."

"Why me?" I gasped.

"That is a very good question."

Suffice it to say I did not depart the institute that day. I sent a text message to my friends that I would not be joining them in the danger room as I needed to think about what got discussed in Professor Xavier's office. I left out the details of how I reached my decision. I received return responses stating their relief I would be staying. Given what I knew at that moment, I thought their sentiments a bit naive. The weight of the knowledge Charles bestowed upon me began to press heavily on me as I sat in my room and stared at the walls. Through it all, it felt as though Murphy waited for me to make some final decision. Mostly, I felt terrified of myself for several hours.

"What about lunch, asshole?" Marrow's voice slipped under my door around three o'clock in the afternoon.

The door opened, as per her want, and she stood looking at me for a few moments. Then she walked in and closed the door. She dressed as she normally did.

"What the hell did they do to you?" Marrow whispered her question as she strolled forward.

"He told me the truth," I vacantly replied as I looked at her, past her, and wondered what my life would be like if somehow I managed to erase her existence. It scared the daylights out of me.

Marrow snagged my desk chair with her foot and deftly swung it around so the back faced me. Then she sat down. The bony protrusions on her back made chairs difficult for her. I could feel her green eyes boring into me.

"Look, there's a lot I need to sort through. I just need some time," I pleaded with her when Marrow's scrutiny became to much.

"What did they tell you?" She asked and narrowed her eyes. I think she waited for me to tell her some horror story about the meeting.

"That they figured out Murphy a while ago and it's the reason why they treated me like they did," I gave her the very, very truncated version.

"And us?"

"Didn't come up. Maybe later."

"So you really are staying?" My friend returned to a concern that directly involved her.

I shrugged and then nodded a little. Outside in the hallway I could hear people talking. For them life went rolling merrily along, or at least as merrily as it could for a mutant. On my side of the door the air felt heavy and oppressive. Even Marrow began to respond to it when I would not spill the details. Her eyes narrowed.

"Honestly, I just need to think. Just a few more hours so I can make sense of all this shit," I requested, although I know it sounded like begging to her.

Marrow stood as she scrutinized. Her features became fixed and unreadable. It made me wonder what she planned.

"Are you coming to dinner?" She inquired.

"Yeah, I'll come down for dinner. I should have… maybe some of this figured out," I replied and hoped I sounded sincere. I could not tell.

"Okay. Dinner then. If you not there, we're storming your fucking room and Murphy be damned."

I forced a grin on my face. She did not return it. Then without saying another word my friend turned and walked to the door. Marrow glanced backward toward me for a moment. I waved one hand. Then she opened the door, stepped through, and left me on my own. I lowered my head until my chin rested on my chest.

Did ten minutes pass? An hour? I lost track as I contemplated the nature of Murphy. Admitting I did not control the power seemed easy. Finding a way to control it looked impossible. Time and again I tried to piece together one good reason why it would get stuck in my head. An accident? Coincidence? Some nefarious plot? Nothing seemed to make sense unless I could find a purpose for the power coming to me. We all knew it did not occur due to a mutation.

"All right, Ted! Come out of there!" Marrow's voice boomed as she pounded on my door.

I glanced at my wristwatch. Dinner ended half an hour ago. I started to move, but the door flew open before my feet made it to the edge of my bed. She arrived with reinforcements. Doug and Hector stood behind her and appeared equally displeased with me. The trio invaded my quarters. I waited to see if Murphy would react, but I did not sense even a small flicker. The door slammed shut behind Hector. They advanced on my like an invading army.

"You promised to have dinner with us and you welched on us just like you did with training. What gives? Spill your guts now before we do it for you!" The leader of the invasion force growled at me.

Even Marrow's threat did not trigger Murphy. It seems I knew deep inside she used hyperbole because she cared about me. I glanced at my friends. Doug appeared furious, especially since I knew he needed the training hours. However, Hector wore what could be considered the same expression. I read the way his muscles flexed. Seconds later they stood at the side of my bed. Their combined ire radiated off of them like a wave of heat. I glanced up.

"Seems I've got a doom's day device stuck in my head," I flatly told them.

First each one gazed at me with disbelief fueled in part by the current disappointment they felt. When I failed to expose what I said as a halfhearted attempt at humor, their expression changed to one of confusion. I did nothing to ease their bewilderment. Following another spell of silence, the trio of faces started to look concerned. At that point I nodded my head.

"Murphy is a doom's day device?" Doug hesitantly repeated as a question what I said.

I could not help myself when I started talking. Over ten hours of non-stop thinking on my part yielded no results. Thus, the burden of the knowledge compelled me to share, and share I most certainly did. I told them everything. Hector and Marrow grabbed chairs and sat down. Doug parked himself on the foot of my bed. None of my friends interrupted during the twenty minutes I spent laying out what Professor Xavier and I discussed, along with some of my private thoughts. I ran through an accurate if condensed version of the conversation sprinkled with anecdotes from previous discussions. When I finished, they stared at me with blank expressions.

"That's it," I said when no one spoke.

They glanced at each other, and then at me. Hector dressed in a warm-up suit, and I imagined he wore it all day. Doug sported his usual jeans and a polo shirt. He appeared addicted to styles ranging from 1985 through 1995. Marrow looked as she did earlier in the day. Their dress aside, they gave every indication they took what I said with complete and utter seriousness.

"So this… Murphy. Fuck it: let's just keep calling it Murphy," Marrow began.

Doug and Hector agreed. I nodded.

"I don't get how a math problem…"

"Charles called it a mathematical construct," I corrected her.

"Fine, that. That it's alive?" She finished.

I shrugged and said: "It doesn't feel alive. It feels… reactive."

"Stimulus, response?" Doug ventured.

"Sure. That makes as much sense as anything else," I rejoined. "It's not thinking. I know it isn't. Murphy just goes off what I think and feel. I guess I'm the rationale for it's actions."

"So if it wiped out the universe it'd be because you wanted it?" Hector queried, but it sounded more like a statement to my ears.

I lifted my shoulders while I said: "I guess if I perceived the universe as a real and potential threat… and thought the only way to deal with it was eradication, I suppose Murphy could make it happen."

"Like Thanos," Marrow muttered.

Unlike me, both she and Doug disappeared in The Snap. They remembered feeling odd and disoriented, but it seemed to them they immediately returned. Only part of a second went missing from their minds regardless of how much time passed for the rest of us. The rest of the world went through another temporal twist when Doctor Strange altered the time vector so that The Snap existed as a looped pocket of time that kept everyone at the approximate age just before the event. Some of us contained five extra years and it did not show. The years became disconnected memories that felt eerie when I actively thought about it. Some people could not mentally adjust, and the world saw a brief and significant spike in suicide rates.

"Yeah, and you didn't get dusted," Doug added.

"Probably Murphy… I guess. I mean there's no way to actually know if Murph protected me or not," I concluded. "It'd be like math versus math at that point, and Charles made it sound like Murphy's math might be stronger than what Thanos used."

"That sounds so… so… it sounds stupid," Hector sputtered. "How do you use math as a weapon?"

"You make a nuclear bomb," Doug instantly supplied an answer.

Hector frowned at him.

"Galileo said math is the language of the universe," Doug responded to the look.

Hank drilled that phrase into my head during some of our initial lessons. I tried to explain to him I almost failed every advanced math class I ever took. Anything above basic geometry tended to confuse me. Physics and quantum mechanics, topics near and dear to his blue heart, left me totally befuddled. Granted, I understood some very basic concepts, but Dr. McCoy tended to dive deep while he tried to explain what he understood about Murphy. Somehow my responses managed to give him enough insight into what hid in my brain. Although Professor Xavier did not explicitly state it and Hank merely alluded to it, I perceived they figured out Murphy by the end of my first month at the institute. Doug's reference brought those memories to the fore.

"So the only safeguard is to have you not think about any of that?" Marrow questioned as her face twisted to one side. "That's telling someone not to think about white elephants…"

"And then it's all they can think about," Hector finished for her, and it earned him a fierce scowl.

"Actually, it's not that hard to think about," I confessed.

They gave me expectant and somewhat forthright looks.

"Somehow I'd need to be able to think of the whole universe at one moment, and it's a damn big place. It'd be like trying to remember every story ever written in Chinese."

"Basically it means we're safe as long as you stay a fucking idiot," Marrow stated in her rather brusque manner.

Hector tried to hide his grin. His transparent skin helped, but I saw the way the muscle around his mouth flexed. Doug, ever the master of keeping a straight face, stared at a mote of dust somewhere in the middle of the room.

"That's, ah… sure, that's one way of looking at it," I sort of agreed.

"Easy-peasy," she said in a pleased voice.

"White elephant," Doug intoned.

"Damn it!" Marrow swore.

We all knew why. The moment Doug said those words the image of an albino pachyderm flitted through my brain. The concept proved too compelling, and my friend used it as very subtle refutation of Marrow's bluntly presented idea. However, one other question lurked in my mind that I want to discuss with them now that they got a fundamental notion of what caused me to stay sequestered the entire day.

"Yeah, but how do you think about the whole universe?" I countered his example. "But the fucked up part is why me? Why did power get lodged in my head?"

"Why not you?" Hector answered while the others sat in silence.

"Okay?" I said and rolled my hand in a circle to indicate he should continue.

"You said Murphy is all about changing the odds, right?"

"Probability."

Doug and Marrow swung their heads to look at Hector.

"Yeah, it could've been anyone, but it happened to be you."

"But why me?"

"Why me? Why this mutation?" Marrow jumped into the mix. "Look, Ted, are you really going to get anywhere asking why? You're trying to find reason for a random event. What the fuck good does that do? Are you going to start praying for an answer? Thought you didn't really believe in all that god crap."

"And God doesn't owe you an answer anyway," Hector told me since he did believe in all that god crap as Marrow so delicately phrased it.

"And even knowing why wouldn't change anything, would it? I mean really: would it?" Doug decided to join in.

"Are you saying you wouldn't feel better knowing there's some kind of purpose behind all of it?" I asked the question I usually dismissed.

"What if your purpose is to destroy the universe? Do you really want to know that?" The blonde-haired young man sitting on my bed inquired.

A silence settled over us as I began to contemplate his questions.

"But wouldn't that be saying I don't have a choice in the matter?" I pondered aloud after half a minute.

"Not that damn free will argument again," Marrow sighed in dissatisfaction. "Can't you guys ever talk about normal stuff?"

The three males in the room eyed her.

"Okay, so this is where Doug asks me if I know where I live. I get it, so shut the fuck up," she grumped.

Doug snorted because he typically reminded us of our mutant heritage, even though I could not claim being a mutant, whenever one of us used the word normal as a comparison. Nothing about our lives or living arrangements could be deemed normal. Abnormal became the norm as Logan like the sputter on a regular basis. Hector used his invisible flesh to hide his grin, and it brought up another topic we all rather detested.

"And what about fair?" I posited.

The three groaned as if in agony.

"Fair again assumes something is actually in control and making value judgments," I continued and shot Hector a glance which he amazingly met.

"Just… don't… start," Marrow spoke each word after a pause to emphasize her disdain for the repetitive argument that routinely erupted between us.

"Okay, we'll settle on Murphy exists, and it's… Jesus, how powerful is that thing?" Doug began, and then what bothered me all day struck him.

We waited for him to finish whatever thought he started, but his gray eyes stared unfocused into the middle distance.

"Maybe we should figure out a way to test it?" Hector suggested when Doug remained trapped in his thoughts.

"Test it? How?" Marrow pounced. "Have Ted look at something and then think it out of existence?"

"How about Florida?" I half-jokingly offered.

"Why do you hate Florida so much? I have family down there," Hector rounded on me.

"Look, all joking aside, Murphy doesn't work like that. It's not like wishing on a star. Things happen around me based on the odds of success or failure any given event might happen. Like when the professor's chair controls fry. It's happened so often it's not a question of failure anymore," I stated so Hector would stop giving me the wounded puppy dog expression.

"And you don't really control it, do you?" Doug brought up a very salient point.

I shook my head.

"So this is just an academic debate?" Hector inquired of all of us.

"Ha!" Marrow derisively laughed and leaned forward against the chair back.

"Ted, would you ever consciously direct Murphy at someone?" Doug asked.

"You know I've already done that, so, yeah, I would if I thought it was necessary," I honestly replied. "Why?"

"Isn't that what Xavier, McCoy and the rest of them are really worried about? That you might try to actively use Murphy and it'll go bad?"

I blinked at him. Hector and Marrow blinked at him as well. Doug shifted his gaze from one face to another, or figuratively in Hector's case. I started to frown.

"Dude, they tried to train him to control it," Marrow rejoined, and no one missed the derogatory intonation of the first noun.

"Did they?" He asked. "And I don't mean that as a rhetorical question. What did they actually try to train you to do, Ted?"

I shrugged and said: "They wanted me to understand it first since it wasn't a natural mutation. McCoy would tell me not knowing what the thing in my head really is meant I couldn't properly use it."

"What the hell does that even mean?" Doug grumbled. "I don't understand how my power works and I can direct it just fine. Marrow, do you know how the bones grow out of you?"

She shook her. For a moment I felt proud of the fact she did not react negatively to the question.

"Hector, what about your skin?"

"It's mostly a chemical reaction that absorbs photons 'til it gets to the denser layers… plus something to do with my blood. And that question doesn't make sense for me since I can't turn it off. It's always on," he gamely replied and sounded relaxed discussing his mutation with us.

"Okay, but you know that 'cause you and the research team looked for a way to see if you could turn your mutation on and off and make your whole body go invisible. I don't mean to piss you off, Hector, but what good is it just being able to make your skin transparent?" Doug pressed on with his inquiry.

"That's why we did the research," Hector said in a tight voice. The question did make him angry, and the ease he displayed a moment before utterly vanished.

"Hector, sorry, but it's a good example," the facile linguist quietly said.

"Example for what?" I asked.

"Didn't Charles tell you he didn't want you to focus on people and that's why he put down in that office and gave you too much work for one person to handle? They're weren't trying to train you: they were trying to contain you. It's why they threw a fit every time you threatened to leave," Doug said and revealed more of his thinking.

"They did 'cause they didn't want me to hurt anyone, Doug. You already said that."

"How did they know Murphy could hurt someone? I don't mean indirectly, either."

Hector, Marrow and me scrutinized our friend. Gradually my eyes began to grow bigger. Doug pointed out one very important feature: Professor Xavier did tell me the truth, but not the whole truth. I thought back to when Hank abruptly ended the tutoring sessions. He claimed I refused to learn. Now I began to wonder what he meant for me to learn. Charles' disappointment always bothered me. He never explained how my lack of control disappointed when he surrounded himself with a number of mutants who exhibited far less control over their powers than me. I recalled my mention of Jean Grey and Alex Summers.

"Something doesn't add up, Ted," Doug muttered.


	4. Chapter 4

Charles left on Saturday afternoon to meet with parents of mutant children. It gave me close to forty hours to ponder Doug's questions. I spent time on Sunday with my friends. Six hours in a danger room and dinner removed the sting from the previous day. From the start I begged them to avoid asking me about my situation and what I thought. They took the hint I continued to wrestle with the questions. After dinner, I found sitting in my room impossible.

"Hank?" I politely said after politely knocking on his office door.

"Ted?" He blandly replied.

"As much as you probably don't want to after yesterday morning, I was wondering if I could talk to you for a few minutes."

Dr. McCoy inhaled in the manner of someone who willfully decided to be patient. He waved me into his office. I walked in and sat in the chair on the guest side of his desk. He always presented an odd picture since Hank preferred suits and a lab coat over his blue fur when in his public office. Hundreds of questions stampeded through my brain while I seated myself, and settling on just one became difficult. I chose an easy one.

"Did Charles talk to you after we got done?" I inquired.

The man called The Beast seemed a bit surprised at my opening question. He adjusted his glasses. I noticed he did not look directly at me when he said: "He did. I hope you understand now what we did we did not mean on a personal level."

"Okay, but let me ask you this: are you really that afraid of me?"

Again he appeared stunned by my simple direct approach.

"Of you, not precisely. Of that thing in your head, most definitely. What you said to Logan and later to Charles proved you're capable of revenge."

"And you're not?" I prodded.

"Oh, I can be petty and vindictive with the best of them, Ted. However, I don't have the ability to lay waste to an entire planet or universe. One misdirection on your part means we all cease to be. Doesn't that frighten you?"

"Honestly? No."

He actually leaned forward as if he misheard me.

"If we all just stop existing, that means the end of all consciousness and thought. We wouldn't even know it 'cause there'd be nothing capable to know it," I explained what I thought up that morning regarding the sudden cessation of the universe. "That's not the issue. It seems like you're more afraid the end would be long and painful."

"I'm not certain what distinction you're trying to make, Ted," Hank grumbled.

"Fine. Did you fear teaching me anymore more about Murphy might actually give me control over it, and you didn't like like or trust my personality enough to give me that responsibility?"

It took less than a second to see I accurately gauged his reasons. First he appeared shocked, and just as quickly he adopted an offended stance. Hank gave me the classic how-dare-you expression. My question insulted his perceived sense of integrity. However, his initial reaction seemed to speak the truth.

"It's okay to say you don't have like or trust me. I feel the same about you. I think your motives, all your motives, are suspect and dubious. Kind of makes us even," I said in the hopes he would drop the charade.

"You have no right to judge me like that," Hank snapped.

"And you do?"

"It's part of my job."

"A self-appointed one if I understand the history of the X-Men correctly," I parried without raising my voice and sitting calmly before him.

"Ted, if all you want to do is insult me and argue, then please leave. Right now! I've better things to do than put up with your nonsense," the man-beast spat at me.

"Why can't you be honest with me, Hank? What is it you're so afraid I'll find out?"

Dr. McCoy sat back in is chair. He raised his hands and created a steeple in front of his face. His blues eyes, a shade much lighter than his fur, drilled into me. The challenge I raised struck even deeper at his sense of integrity. I basically called him a liar and requested he stop. As I considered talking to him throughout the morning, I decided I would be direct and honest with him with the hopes he would do the same. I watched him as he weighed his options.

"I suppose filling you in on the rest won't make much of a difference… especially after what Charles told you," he said, and it sounded as if the air got squeezed from his chest by a heavy weight. "We knew your power existed on Earth at shortly after you were born, but we didn't know it was you who got it."

"You knew Murphy existed?" I asked full of incredulity.

"You know we're in contact with extra-terrestrial races and have been for a long, long time?"

I nodded.

"One of them, a being known as Kronos – and, yes, a certain Greek mythological figure bears the same name – sent us word they, a group called The Eternals, discovered the universal force of probability shifted around from one living mind to another. They think it's the universe protecting itself, and it decided to protect itself here on Earth."

"And I got it?" I rhetorically asked.

"You won the lottery, Ted. No one knows how or why or by whom the choice is made…"

"It's an act of random probability," I said and recalled some of what me and my friends discussed. "It didn't matter who: it just needed to land somewhere."

"That's fairly astute, and Charles and I came to the same conclusion when we figured out your mutation wasn't a mutation and your power happened to to match the one Kronos warned us about," Hank confirmed what I already started to guess.

"Why didn't you just tell me that?"

"And how would you deal with that knowledge?"

"Stop assuming everyone is less capable than you, Hank," I grunted at him. "You might be a genius, but you're not the only one who can handle disturbing news… and don't forget your the one who tried to permanently change his shape."

A scowl rippled across his face.

"That's the biggest problem with you and Charles: you both think people are weaker than yourselves and need all sorts of preparation for even simple stuff. Stop underestimating everyone. It's fucking annoying," I stated because I thought he needed a reminder.

"I've seen how people react…"

"Don't ever call me a cynic without looking in the mirror first," I trampled on an excuse I thought he might use.

"Fine. We were afraid you might start tampering with this power and destroy everything. Is that underestimating you?"

"Yes, 'cause you're assuming the worst. Once again you show don't think much of anyone except yourself and maybe Xavier."

A low growl escaped him. I found I could not escape wanting to antagonize the man. I believed him cavalier, dismissive, egotistical, and patronizing in his dealings with others. Basically, I did not respect Hank McCoy one bit and wanted to make sure he knew that at all times.

"Well, thanks," I said and started to stand. "I can pretty much piece together the rest from here. I just needed confirmation you know about this before you even found me."

"Why would you even suspect that?" He grumbled, but he sounded honestly curious as to my reasons.

"Because after one month you both either gave up on me or decided I was too much of a risk, so you let me finish college as a way to keep me distracted while making sure I never, ever learned anything useful about Murphy. Except you kind of failed at that," I answered and began to turn to walk away.

"How did we fail?"

"You forced me to realize I couldn't control this thing. At the same time I… okay, we, figured out it took suggestions from me. It reacted to my reactions… things I thought as long I formulated it as a probability problem. Then you left me alone with Murphy, Hank. Big mistake if you were trying to get me to ignore it. I really came to like it after a while… and mostly for all the wrong reasons while I was working all alone down in the basement."

I saw a flicker of fear on his face. It dawned on me Charles told him what I planned prior to the Saturday morning meaning. Given what he heard me say to Logan, who I did not see since that morning, his fear made sense.

"You're still mortal, Ted, and we can find a way to stop you without activating Murphy," he threatened me.

I turned and faced him again: "Okay, so let's say you do that. Now that you planted the idea in my head, I think it would be wise of me to tell you that… oh… maybe my last dying thought will be about my chances of getting Murphy to take out the solar system. I'll formulate a proposition that if I die unnaturally, he stands an excellent chance of collapsing all the planets into the sun. How does that sound?"

I got to see the realization he made a huge mistake take shape on his face.

"Did Charles tell you what I said about Frankenstein?"

Hank's head shifted from side to side.

"Don't be afraid of the monster you think is under your bed, be afraid…"

"Of the monster you create," he quietly finished.

"I didn't create this situation, Hank. If you and Charles came clean with me from the start, I might not despise the two of you as much as I do."

A sneer took shape on his face.

"I know the feeling is mutual, so you don't have to say it. I'll never strike out against you first, but if you so much as raise a single strand of fur against me I'll take great delight in watching you tear yourself apart. I think the probability is fairly low you'd win a fight against yourself," I warned him.

"You're an evil piece of shit," Hank mumbled, and it came out so nasty I felt the back of my head heat up. He likely saw my reaction and said: "I promise to never tangle with you. Don't come looking for my help, either."

"Likewise."

I got the information I needed and a few bonus pieces as well. As I left Hank's office, I saw I could control Murphy in a very limited, albeit potent, fashion. The notion I protected myself against assassination by the X-Men made me feel a little better. Did I honestly believe the X-Men would make an attempt on my life? I did. Charles would never sanction such an act, but I did not doubt for one second several of his underlings would. With the exception of my three friends at The Xavier Institute, I did not trust the X-Men. Many of the students blindly followed the professor without considering where the man actually lead them. The older and senior member, those under his sway the longest, seemed predisposed to ruthlessly carrying out Charles' ideals. I began to understand why Erik Lenscherr so thoroughly disliked and distrusted the X-Men: it seemed all too familiar to him. For all their high and mighty talk, much of what the X-Men did now seemed incredibly suspicious to me.

"Let's see if the man himself can add more to this story on Monday," I muttered to myself as I wandered down the hallway.

I learned after the fact the professor would not return to the mansion until Friday. Not only did he meet with parents, but several other clandestine appointments seemed to be on his docket. It occurred to me the institute operated very much like other covert organizations. Granted, they shouldered a primary responsibility of protecting mutant children. Numerous government and other agencies displayed no ethical or moral qualms about using mutants as guinea pigs and lab rats. However, the institute operated very much in the shadows and played by those same rules.

On Wednesday I sat in the office struggling to reconcile a stack of bills. Funding expensive projects without raising the interest of the US government agencies and the Department of Defense required many complicated steps. Charles assured me I did nothing illegal, but I knew we came awfully close to skirting the edge. Thus, it did not come as a complete surprise when a knock arrived at my door.

"Ah, excuse me, but are you Theodore Johnson, the comptroller for the Xavier Institute?" A woman's as she stood in my doorway.

"And you are?" I asked while I stood.

"Marjorie Walton," she stated while walking in with an arm extended. In her finger a white rectangle got aimed at me. "I work for the State of New York Department of Taxation and Finances."

When she got close enough, I took her card and glanced at it while holding out my hand. She took it, and we executed a polite little shake. I then motioned for her to sit in the only available chair in my poorly provisioned office. As of yet Charles failed to assign me a new one.

"Why do they make you work in such a deep basement?" Ms. Walton inquired as he glanced around and took the offered seat.

"When was the last time you got any respect as an accountant or working for the taxation bureau?" I countered.

"Hmm, I see. So, ah, Mr. Johnson…" she began.

"Please call me, Ted. I don't rank a Mr. Johnson yet."

"Yes, well, okay. Thank you… Ted," the woman replied and appeared a bit uncomfortable using my first name.

I sat down while she spoke and shoved piles of paper aside so I could clearly see her. She dressed in a very conservative gray skirt suit with an ivory colored blouse buttoned at the neck. A single silver chain with a small pendant dangled on the outside. An overstuffed leather satchel, an expensive one that saw much abuse over the years, rested next to her legs and feet shod in sensible black pumps. The highlighted brown hair, quite possibly entirely died to hide gray, rested neatly tied into a loose bun at the top of her neck. Her figure spoke of two or three children and a comfortable middle-class lifestyle at the very least. A serene sense of confidence exuded from her, as befitting a person from the powerful taxation office.

"Now I've come to talk to you about the last two year's of filing you made on behalf of the institute. I note you're not a certified CPA…"

"Sitting the exam in a couple of weeks," I interjected, "but I've acted as the main accountant for the institute for the last almost three years."

"Before you finished your degree and gained any experience?" Ms. Walton queried in a less-than-impressed tone.

"Professor Xavier believes entrusting responsibility to his students as soon as possible," I flagrantly lied. Of course, I did not feel entirely free to tell her the real reason why I served in my current position.

"Very… modern of him."

I nodded.

"Very well," she said and reached down to her bursting satchel. I heard papers rustle. Then her hand rose clutching a thick folder. "I must say the filing is very complicated. We had a dickens of a time tracing the incoming and outgoing flow. Several… irregularities came to light that I hope you might be able to explain."

"I hope I can," I gamely agreed.

The woman opened the file, flipped through some pages, and then stopped. She literally halted in mid-motion and froze like a statue. Murphy suddenly flared into a hot spot. I glanced around, saw nothing out of the ordinary, and then gazed at the woman.

"Do not be alarmed, Ted Johnson," a very different voice said through her mouth. "Forgive the deception, be we could find no other way to privately meet with you."

"Um, who is we and what do you want?" I said as my neck began to tingle so much it started to hurt.

"We are The Luminals, and I am Brightstorm. We are affiliated with The Eternals…"

"Oh, Kronos. Yeah, I heard of him and not that long ago, either," I interjected.

"We are aware you were recently informed as to the primal focus contained within your mind," the being masquerading as a taxation agent stated.

"And your interest in me and Murphy is exactly what?" I asked and leaned back in my dilapidated and almost non-functional chair.

For several days I adjusted my thinking regarding Murphy. Even though I did not control it in a direct manner, I also knew it worked to preserve me. I never figured out why other than I served as temporary housing for it. Murphy did not think. It carried no memories. It did not act alive. Murphy existed because it served some primary function for the universe, or so I conceived of it. For unknown reasons it took refuge inside of living beings. From what Charles and Hank told me, I simply served as the current host in what seemed to be long, long, long line of hosts.

"You do not seem entirely surprised by this visit?" The strange voice inquired.

"Did you see who lives here? Do you have any idea what sort of weird shit I've seen over the last three and a half years?" I replied.

The still form of the woman remained motionless.

"Look, my boss is a man who can mentally control everyone on the planet. One of my best friends can speak and understand any language almost instantly. Another one has transparent skin, and yet another can pull bones out of her body to use as weapons… and those are just some of my friends. You have no idea what sort of a hornet's nest you've walked into."

"We are aware of the residents of this domicile. It is for that reason we employed one of your fellow beings to make contact with you," it said.

"Not a bad plan. I take she had no idea you infested her?" I continued question.

"I am not an infestation!" The creature responded full of indignation.

"Did you ask for her permission and discuss where you intended to take her body before you jumped inside of her?"

The being call Brightstorm remained conspicuously silent.

"I thought so," I muttered. "What do you want?"

"To warn you not to tamper with the… what did you call it?"

"People around here named it Murphy after Murphy's Law. I sort of got used to calling it that."

The body did not move, but I suspected it would jerk upright if it could when the invading presence said: "Others are aware of the primal Focus?"

"Why do you mean by primal focus?" I counter-queried and skipped answering.

"I take it you retained knowledge of Thanos and the Infinity Stones?"

I narrowed my eyes and nodded. I twiddled with a pencil on my desk and hoped this impromptu meeting would not last for hours. Even though I did not get properly paid and Charles seemed to be reneging on several items discussed in the Saturday meeting, my built-in sense of duty drove me to keep working until final resolutions could be made.

"Perhaps you were not made aware that very few retained active memories of what occurred. I would hazard a guess the primal… Murphy did not allow you be harvested or have your memories altered."

"A lot of the mutants here got spared that."

"But you are not, as they call themselves, a mutant."

"No shit, and thanks for the reminder," I grumbled.

Silence persisted for several long moments in my dank office. The brick walls, painted a nauseous beige grown dingy over the years, looked to be well over one hundred-years old. A row of filing cabinets lined two walls, and a bookshelf filled with tomes I never read occupied half the wall behind my desk. Clear white LED lighting from two bulbs in the ceiling did not quite illuminate the entire space. My desk lamp did not do the lighting any favors. Odd shadows huddled in the corners. The woman's body remained inert in the chair. I wondered how the Brightstorm creature assessed the current state of affairs.

"To answer one of your questions, the universe runs on a series of interrelated principles of conceptual, mathematical, physical, theoretical, and virtual natures. The Infinity Stones represent six of the universal Foci. Several of the remaining Foci cannot be physically manifested in the same way. The Focus of Probability, the one residing in your mind, is of that order. However, for it to properly function it must have a locus within the base dimensions of the universe. Does this make sense to you?"

"Not entirely, but go on. I can figure it out later," I truthfully answered. "You still didn't explain why you're here… even if this other stuff is kind of interesting."

"I come to you with a simple request: please to do not make any attempt to utilize the Probability Focus. It cannot be wielded like the other powers you see around you," Brightstorm said in what I assumed to be a dire voice for it.

"Ah, too late."

"I beg your pardon? Do you mean to imply you used the Focus?"

"I don't think use is the right word. Maybe I gave it some sort of direction, something to focus… oh, I get it. Focus. Wow, kind of a small word for such a big concept," I commented.

"Size is never a good measure of the potency or utility of anything," the creature intoned.

"Tell me about it. Some of the guys here who can manipulate their skin… never mind. Yeah, right: don't judge a book by it's cover… so to speak."

"More to the point," it said and I could not help but snicker, "do not tamper with the Focus. It can produces affects across the universe in unanticipated and unintended ways. It must be left to function on its own without any interference. Do you understand the importance of this directive?"

"What if I don't want to leave it alone? What if I like what Murphy can do?" I asked in an introspective fashion.

"Have you taken leave of your senses?" Brightstorm railed at me. "Do you not comprehend the magnitude of Focus you call Murphy? You cannot play fickle with it and think no repercussions will be forthcoming. Heed me, Theodore Johnson: this is not a child's plaything. It is part of the fabric of the very universe itself. Unless you can perpend all the implications of what it can do, leave the Focus to itself."

Even though the Brightstorm creature sounded entirely serious, a piece of my mind held out against its counsel. Murphy did not feel dangerous to me. It never posed a serious threat to anyone. Granted, in the last week I primed it to become more destructive, but I believed I padded it with enough conditions to make anything terrible a very remote chance.

"You are arrogant and foolish," Brightstorm reprimanded me when I did not respond.

"Says a being who invaded another person. Seems rather hostile. Murphy fired up the instant you arrived, so I can't say I'm inclined to completely take you at your word," I fired back.

"My brief habitation will cause no harm to this person. However, your failure to attend to my warnings may."

"Then why don't you just take it away from me and give it to someone else. I never wanted it in the first place."

"Only your death can remove the Focus from you. Once it integrates with a vessel, it cannot be taken by force," the being flatly stated.

That gave me pause.

"I assume you became aware the Focus will offer some protection to you?"

I nodded, but I did not know if the creature could see me, so I said: "Yeah. I figured that out a while ago, but something tells me it's not absolute."

"Correct. You are very much like most other normal mortals on this world. Your body is not built to withstand extreme duress and punishment. The simple things than can end your existence remain in force," said Brightstorm with a touch of noticeable satisfaction in its voice.

"So basically you're telling me nothing's really changed except you don't want me to… I guess interact with Murphy," I summarized, except I did it more for myself. "My question is why did it stick itself in my brain if it didn't want me to use it?"

"It is not a conscious entity that we are aware of. It did not act or settle within you with on purpose. It merely moved to the next vessel based on it's laws of operation," the creature said through the moving mouth of the woman although the rest of her body remain inert and stationary.

"I got randomly chosen."

"That is correct."

"And now you say I can't use it?" I pressed the point again.

"That is also correct," Brightstorm told me in a less guarded manner.

I sat further back in my chair, risked toppling over, and looked at the unfortunate woman who got selected for this contact. As expected of me, the agent from the taxation office got rendered powerless over the invading presence. A different thought arose as I struggled to reconcile the situation.

"Seems like a load of bullshit to me," I flatly stated. "My head gets used to hold this thing and you think I'm just going to sit here and ignore it? Murphy fucked up my life whether he meant to or not, and I'm supposed to simply accept it?"

"That would be the wisest course, yet I suspect by your tone you were being facetious," the alien replied and sounded disappointed. "There is one other factor you need to consider before you are completely taken with brash and brazen foolhardiness."

"Wait! Let me see if I can guess. It makes me a marked person? Right?"

Silence resided between to us.

"Oh, shit, I'm right, aren't I?" I grunted and tamped down a small surge of fear.

"At least you are not totally impaired, and, yes, there are many across the universe aware the Focus of Probability resides in a new host. Your actions with what you call Murphy announce to any who care to listen you are toying with a fundamental force. You will attract interest."

"And not the good kind."

"Some will be curious. Some will seek to contain you so it may operate without interference. Others… others will try to convince you to use the Focus for any number of purposes. More than a few will go to great lengths to get your cooperation," Brightstorm told me and his voice became more ominous as he spoke. It felt like a scene out of a movie.

"When you say great lengths, you mean like death, destruction and all-around chaos?" I rhetorically inquired.

"Succinct," the being answered anyway.

I sat and thought. Brightstorm gave me both silence and time. Since Marjorie Walton did not move a muscle, including blinking her eyes, it seemed an easy guess the alien exercised patience. I did not waste the time.

"So what does it mean when Murphy just sort of reacts on its own?"

"For example?"

"Well, like when someone irritates me and something around them just sort of goes on the fritz," I told him.

"And you are not consciously directing the Focus?" Brightstorm logically queried.

"No," and I shook my head as I answered.

"Does this happen on a consistent basis?"

"Yeah."

"To what extent did you try to control the focus?" The creature inquired in a tone that told me more than words.

I spent a few minutes explaining how during my mid-teen years I slowly figured out odd incidents occurred around me that appeared highly unlikely. Then, by the time I realized the strange events could not be natural, Professor Xavier, Dr. McCoy, and Miss Munro appeared and induced me to attend the institute. The stories of the initial training sessions with the professor, Logan, and Hank disturbed Brightstorm quite a bit. When I told him they stopped my training and relegated me to the menial tasks when I ruined too many missions, an ominous quiet greeted the end of my short story.

"Well?" I said after at least two minutes of silence.

"I have no idea, except to say this is… unusual. I do not recall hearing about or reading any account of this particular Focus becoming symbiotic with its host," the being answered.

"Like an infection?"

"No, not at all. More like the bacteria in your innards… except you are the bacteria in this instance."

I scowled.

"I will bring this issue up to those who possess more knowledge regarding the Foci. In the meanwhile, I again highly recommend you desist from interacting with Focus of Probability. Simply ignore it resides in you, and I believe in time it may stop reacting to your personal circumstances," Brightstorm instructed me.

"Sure. Fine," I grumped.

"As distasteful as this may seem to you, Theodore Johnson, need I remind you that continued interference with the focus will alert others who will, and I assure you on this point, terminate your life," he, and I assumed it to be a he by some of its petulant delivery, lectured me in no uncertain terms. "While the lifespan of your species is rather brief, I feel confident in saying you cling to it rather tenaciously."

I snorted.

"I will contact you at least once a decade for an update. Should the situation change or if we learn anything, then I will visit you as needed since I am assigned your case. Do you have any questions regarding this?"

A sigh escaped me before I said: "Yes, but it would burn up the rest of the day, and I don't feel like having the state cops come looking for her. And, ah, what are you going to do about this woman?"

"She will think you discussed the matter which brought her here and you adequately provided her the necessary information. She will thank you and depart," Brightstorm said.

"At least you thought ahead."

"Quite."

A thousand questions did reside in my head, but most would take days to answer. I sighed again. Not only did Charles and Hank warn me about toying with Murphy, now I got an intergalactic warning. One issue did pop up in my head that the alien might be able to answer. I glanced at the woman and found her staring at me.

"Mr. Johnson, is there anything else?" She queried as though she already asked once.

"Ah, no, Ms. Walton," I quickly regrouped. "Like I said, I can provide you any information you need or answer any other questions you have."

The woman looked down at her file folder. Her eyebrows drew together for a second. She closed the file and reached down for her satchel. It seemed obvious she sensed something did not quite make sense. However, after a few seconds her features smoothed out. Ms. Walton finished cramming the thick file back into the briefcase. When she looked at me, the woman seemed a bit unfocused.

"Ms. Walton?" I inquired in a pleasant.

"Did I… of course I did. I just… oh, well," she stated and shrugged. "Do you have a card?"

"Nope. No one asked for one before."

I scribbled my name down on a piece of paper and included the number to my direct line. I handed it to her. Her face continued to twitch. I suspected Brightstorm still worked at arranging her memories so the visit appeared logical to her. The woman stared at me for ten seconds.

"Well, thank you, Mr. Johnson," Ms. Walton said in a pleasant if distracted manner. "Your cooperation is greatly appreciated. I'm sure it wouldn't surprise you to hear most people don't like visits for me."

"The Department of Taxation? No?" I replied in a comically sarcastic manner.

She smiled.

"Mr. Johnson, forgive me, but… well, is there a different way out of here? Those steps looked old and, to be honest, a little dangerous," she requested.

"Sure, follow me," I said and stood.

I lead the woman through the labyrinth of the old sub-sub-basement until we got to the main elevator. Mrs. Walton inquired as to the age of the building and the school. I babbled on about the year the house originally got constructed, when Xavier opened it as a school, and then mentioned the rebuilds as renovations. By the time I got through we made it to the ground floor. After carefully threading our way through the side halls to a side entrance, she seemed impressed.

"Well, I can see why I got told to use the old stairs. This place is big," she said as she exited the house house and I held the door for her.

"It is the most direct route to my office," I responded in an offhand manner.

Mrs. Walton raised a hand in farewell and said: "Thank you again, Mr. Johnson. I hope you have a pleasant afternoon."

"You, too."

I watched as she followed the small path between the hedgerows to the visitor parking lot. A minute later her car roared to life, and she started to drive away. I closed the door and turned. Logan stood right behind and scared the daylights out of me. I actually jumped.

"Dammit, Logan!" I shouted at him.

"Who the hell was that?" He growled and glanced at the door.

"Auditor from the New York Department of Taxation."

"What'd she want?"

"Ms. Walton got hijacked by some alien named Brightstorm from some group called The Luminals. He came to tell me what Murphy is and told me not to mess around it. Seemed a bit pissed I already knew what Murphy is, but he really doesn't want me toy with it," I told him the truth in bland voice.

Logan narrowed his eyes.

"Oh, and I think the professor fucked up the books. They might shut the place down for back taxes."

"You're an asshole," the short man grumbled.

The lights overhead flickered. We both looked up. Given I threatened Logan once before, a threat he took very serious, the flashing lights seemed like a warning.

"He does it on his own," I said.

"Listen to what that alien said and don't fuck around with it," the Wolverine told me in a grating voice. He then turned and walked away. His boot heels thudded on the floor.

"But it really wasn't me," I whispered to his retreating back.

Logan raised a hand and gave me the finger as he continued his exit. The man possessed extraordinary senses. He also seemed to only own a single pair of jeans, but any number of tank-top tee-shirts. His reaction made me smirk. It also made me think. The man did not seem put off by my announcement an alien hijacked a woman's body and made its way into the mansion. As I thought about it, it became apparent they knew Ms. Walton arrived, probably did a quick investigation of her background, and then listened in on the entire conversation. I planned on getting Murphy to short out all the electronics in my office. Then I thought of Brightstorm's warning.

"Or maybe not."


	5. Chapter 5

On Friday evening I conducted a debrief with Professor Xavier. He did not seem troubled by the visit from Brightstorm, but he did ask about the veracity of what I said to Logan about the taxes. I confirmed I meant it in jest. Before he could dismiss me, I inquired as to the conditions I demanded if I planned to stay. The professor took the subtle hint I would take my leave of mansion and gave me assurances they would be met. However, he quibbled again about my leaving the grounds unsupervised, and I mumbled about about finding a job and an apartment. He again took the hint.

To prove my point, I spent the weekend asking for empty boxes and actually began packing some of my belongings. This caused a bit of stir among my few friends. Their reaction proved serious when a familiar but often absent knock sounded against my door on Saturday afternoon.

"Come in," I beckoned the person on the other side and could not stop the smile that already took root on my face.

The voluptuous form of Stacey X sauntered into my room. To call her clothing revealing belittled the word. A push-up bra forced her ample breasts to lead the way. The tight tee-shirt, emblazoned with a picture of The Jonas Brothers, got stretched to breaking point. It also displayed her spectacularly muscled stomach. Black jeans that looked as though painted on her skin accentuated the fine shape of her buttocks and legs. Killer stiletto-heeled boots gave her an additional four inches in almost serpentine height. It never ceased to amaze me she could keep her balance or walk in such footwear. Stacey's somewhat lavender skin gleamed with health. Once more she kept her hair short, and it gave her a post-Runaways look. Joan Jett paled in comparison to Stacey.

"Now where is one of my favorite boys going?" She cooed the question while advancing on me.

I could feel a wave of her power wash over me. Stacey exuded pheromones like a lilac tree shed pollen in the spring. It covered everything. Her presence and my near complete lack of reaction proved yet again my sexuality. However, it did not stop me for getting excited about her visit. For reasons none of us of could fathom, Stacey took a liking to me. I think she enjoyed my hostility toward the X-Men power structure for starters.

"Did they tell you about my list of demands?" I countered without actually answering her question.

"Some."

"The list is on my desk."

Instead of going to read it, Stacey slid her arms across my chest and hugged me. Her firm breasts pressed invitingly against my back. She also kissed the back of my neck, and her tongue traced a small trail up toward my hairline. It seemed reasonable to assume a straight man would melt into a pile of goo at her feet.

"You taste good, Sweets," Stacey cooed into my ear.

"Nope, soft as bread dough down there," I responded.

My friend let out a tantalizing laugh and hugged me closer.

"I missed you," I told her and wrapped one of my arms around hers. "Why'd you stay away so long?"

"Charlie said I was igniting puberty in too many of the boys and girls. Apparently it was putting too much stress on the laundry machines."

I began chuckling at her implied and somewhat raunchy joke, and she joined in. Stacey unwound herself from around me and flopped down onto my bed. Even though we both knew me to be totally gay, I still found the pose she easily, fluidly, and naturally adopted to be alluring. Her body called out like a song, and the subtle scales on her skin only added to the effect. It announced sex like a klaxon.

"You'd've kept Jason's attention and the Sirens wouldn't've stood a chance," I told her.

"You always know what to say to make a girl happy, Teddy," Stacey rumbled and winked.

She, alone, got to call me Teddy. Murphy never reacted to her presence, perhaps because I did not, and it never flinched at any name she called me. Stacey could call me Theodore as often as she wanted and Murphy would lie dormant. However, she did not because she knew I detested the name.

"Are you really leaving?" Stacey gracefully shifted topics.

"Thinking about. Charles still needs to meet all my demands. He's balking at letting me go out on my own. If they're not going to make me a real X-Men, then they shouldn't force me to follow their fucking rules," I grunted out my response.

"Doug says you're a danger to the world, and that's why they won't let you out."

"Did he say that before or after he changed his underwear."

A lascivious grin tripped along her mouth.

"Yeah, it's kind of a universe-ending doom's day device in my head. Murphy isn't just a simple little gimmick," I replied to her original comment.

I sat down on the bed next to her. It seemed an entirely unconscious motion when her hand reached out and began stroking my thigh. The contact made me feel human, and I wondered if it did the same for her. A new thought about our friendship occurred me: Stacey could be herself around me without making me a horny, slathering sex hound. In that regard my gayness offered her a chance to just relax.

"We always knew it wasn't simple. Maybe we didn't understand exactly what it was, but neither it or you are simple, Teddy. Actually, I'm kind of happy for you it's more than just an annoyance to others," Stacey spoke in a coquettish but serious tone.

"Happy for me?"

"Have to admit it gives you more… oh, I guess standing to know you could take out all the X-Men at once. Maybe they'll be a little nicer to you now."

"God, I missed you," I sighed as her words poured into my ears and brain.

She squeezed my thigh. It occurred to me most men might actually ejaculate from such contact with her, but it brought me a sense of comfort. Since Stacey could not manipulate me through sexual means, it meant would could be close in a platonic fashion. I know she liked it. Her general abilities often made a mess of Doug and Hector, and Marrow on the rare occasion.

"If you do move, you'll let me know where you go, right?" She demanded.

"Of course. Heck, I was half thinking of asking if you want to room with me."

"Might be a little too much foot traffic for you."

"That's why I said half, but any door between us is always open to you," I rejoined.

"You are too cute for words," Stacy remarked and wrinkled her shapely nose at me. "Is Murphy really that much of a threat?"

"Guess so. Did they tell you I got a galactic warning?"

She nodded. I extended my arms backward and propped myself on them. Stacey continued to absentmindedly play with my leg. At the same time her green eyes locked with mine, and I saw no humor in her gaze.

"Yeah, it really is a universe-sized power. I guess all the laws of probability are operating out of my head. You'd think I could feel something like that, but… and it doesn't even do anything around me," I tried to offer a more contextualized explanation.

"Wrong there, sweet thing: if Murphy is affecting all the probability laws everywhere, then it's affecting them around you right now. Around me, too. Around all of us. It's always on, but it looks like sometimes it pays special attention to you."

"Not really. It's not alive. Doesn't think. I'm only the host, so it's probably just protecting itself and I get the benefit of that," I stated, and I made it reminder for myself.

"Teddy, you are special even without Murphy taking up space in your brain. Just ask the others. Yes, you can be a moody pain in the ass, but… you're sweet and good to us. The only reason I come back to this high school drama hotel is to get me some time with you and Marrow and Doug and Hector. Keeps me centered and sane," Stacey said and her words dripped with sincerity.

"We love you, too… maybe Doug and Hector a little more than me and Marrow, but… you know what I mean."

She threw her head back and began laughing. The sound made my heart race a bit faster. Stacey laid back on my bed, but her hand continued to rest on my thigh. The edges of my senses tingled from her natural ability she did not need to check in my presence. Murphy did not stir. When I glanced at my friend, I saw a far away look on her face.

"What are you thinking?" I intruded into her silence.

"I'm thinking we need to go out. You know there's that bar in White Plains that caters to mutants. We could all go there… and you could test your newfound independence," Stacey suggested.

"What's it like?"

"Big drink menu since not every mutant gets hammered on the same thing, and there's a small dance floor. They also keep half the upstairs part in the dark for the light-sensitive among us. I'm telling you, Sweets, it really does cater to all types."

I raised one eyebrow, a feat that continuously annoyed Doug because he could not.

"Yes, and your kind, not that that makes you a mutant," she answered my expression.

"I'm not really one, you know?" I queried.

"It's not the gene that makes a mutant. Look at the Fantastic Four. Not an x-gene in one of them, and people still call them mutants. So you're one of us, Teddy. Get used to it."

The woman squeezed my leg again. It seemed a good wager either Doug or Hector would pay me to trade spots right now. However, Stacey did not try to entice me. She wordlessly spoke to me through that contact, and I appreciated that far more than sexual spell she could weave on me.

"What do you say?" She prodded.

At dinner we told the others about the plan to go out that night. We spoke quietly with our heads leaning toward one another, although it made it extremely difficult for the other two males of our quintet to concentrate. Around us in the dining room males, and a good number of females, gaped and ogled Stacey. The effect of her powers slowly crept through the dining room. After a while most of the non-affected women and a few males departed. A goodly amount of food went uneaten while the five of us made plans for the evening.

"Just going to fucking walk right out the front door?" Marrow inquired when I confirmed for the third time I planned on departing without asking for permission.

I nodded.

"You, um, not worried… 'bout them, ah, trying to stop you?" Hector added while continuing to flick his eyes toward Stacey.

"See?" I said to her following Hector's garbled inquiry. "Stay away too long and they lose their immunity."

"Can you dial it back a bit, Stace? I know you want to fuck with… maybe just fuck everyone here, but kind of makes it hard to make plans," Marrow enjoined her in a gruff voice.

"I can try," Stacey murmured.

"To answer your question, Hector," I replied and glanced at him. "Ah, Hector? I'm over here."

"Yeah, what?" He harrumfed at me, and I saw the muscles in his face contract into a frown.

"They won't try to stop me. Charles knows I've created a fight plan in case the X-Men ever come gunning for me. He'll tell them to back off."

"You made a fight plan?" Stacey inquired, and she gave me her undivided attention much to the consternation of Doug and Hector.

However, as my statement sank into their brains, I captured their attention as well. I explained to my friends in greater detail than I gave Charles what I did over the past three years. They agreed forcing me to keep to myself worked against the general idea Professor Xavier envisioned. I picked at the last of my meal while my friends discussed my unusually forward thinking in that regard. Doug gave me a few wary glances since he worried about my possible uses of Murphy. Marrow asked if I made a plan for her, and it dawned on me I did not. I told her as much.

"Teddy is sweet on you," Stacey said and giggled.

"Fuck off," Marrow rumbled, but the corners of her mouth twitched.

"I never made plans for any of you. Never though I'd have fight my friends," I entered the impending verbal fray.

"Oh, right. What're me and Hector going to do to you? I can call you names in every language I know and he'll invisibly frown at you," Doug quipped.

Hector elbowed him and frowned in his own particular fashion.

"I wouldn't sell you short," Stacey stated in a lilting fashion. "You're both trained fighters now. You might not have any real field experience, but you can defend yourselves."

"And Ted can fight right back. He's had the same training as us," Hector reminded everyone. "'Sides, he doesn't always need to tell Murphy what to do. How many times has he told us he doesn't even have to be conscious for Murphy to work?"

My friends eyed me, and I bobbed my head in agreement to the well-established fact.

"So even if we did jump him and knock him out, Murphy would probably take us down," Marrow rumbled.

Three people stared at her. Marrow did not flinch or lower her gaze. The notion I would come into conflict with my friends, real conflict, never dawned on me. I felt Murphy twitch in the back of my head. It took considerable mental effort to keep from thinking about a physical altercation with them.

"Um, guys, I think we'd better switch subjects. Murphy is starting to pay attention."

"Oh, yeah, right! Um, so what's this bar, Stacey?" Doug stated and abruptly shifted gears for this group.

"You mean to tell me you haven't heard of The Do Not Access?" She quickly replied.

We all shook our heads from side to side at the obvious and multi-layered puns in the name.

"It's a night club for mutants, and seriously just for mutants… and people with powers. The only rule they got is no fighting. Steer clear of that, and you're in for a good time. Heck, half the fun is just watching to see who shows up," Stacey told us.

"Expensive?" Marrow asked, and she asked it for all of us.

"Not really. Cheaper than most non-mutie places. I think they know we don't always have steady work."

"I don't get paid," Hector mumbled.

"Me, neither," Doug stated. "Sure, I can ask for spending money, but it's not like any of us have a steady income."

"He will," Marrow said and jerked her head in my direction.

"That's another thing Charles hasn't gotten around to, yet. Damn, half my list still isn't completed. I better get packing tomorrow," I said to myself as much as to my friends.

When I looked at them, four sets of eyes studied me. My eyes flicked from one to another and finally settled on Stacey's green irises. She slowly raised her eyebrows.

"Yeah, I really will move out. I've been thinking about it, and I'm not sure I'm half the danger they think I am. I'm not stupid either, and dealing with Murphy is kind of second nature to me now. Besides, they're just proving me right."

Stacey began to nod and said: "Stick to your principles, Teddy. Let 'em know you're not joking or they'll just keep jerking you around. Make them treat you with respect."

"It's not that bad," Doug grumbled.

"Maybe not for you," I repeated to him for the umpteenth time.

Marrow shifted in her seat.

"What?" I asked.

"Tonight would be a good test," she suggested.

Stacey smirked in agreement.

"So, what time are we leaving?" I queried my friends.

At eight-thirty in the evening I finished getting dressed. Stacey told me not to look too much like a non-mutant. However, my clothes specialized in bland. I tried to spice it up by wearing a shirt I thought clashed horribly with my pants. Tennis shoes also made me look a bit less work-a-day. My appearance ranged into decidedly something less than sexy. However, I kept in my the stated goal centered on fun and not cruising. After dipping into my private stash of money, I departed for the front foyer where we planned to meet.

No one paid me any mind until I passed the room the teaching staff used as an unofficial lounge.

"Uh, why are you dressed like that?" Logan's voice said when I got three steps past the room.

"Heading out tonight," I replied without turning around or stopping.

"Says who?"

"Says me."

The sound of his footfalls echoed behind me. Murphy prickled in the back of my head. Logan tended to operate on familiar patterns. I waited until I could all but smell him as I continued my forward progress.

"Don't touch me," I warned him.

Logan growled and strolled up next to me before he said: "I don't remember seeing your name on the approved excursion list."

"Fuck the approved excursion list. I'm going out. Four of us are going."

The short, powerfully built man stepped around and in front of me to block my passage. I tried to step around him, but he nimbly matched my movements. I halted and calmly stared at him.

"Move," I stated.

"And if I don't?" He rumbled, and I heard the threat.

The upper part of my neck heated up as Murphy reacted and I did nothing to stop it. Seconds later Logan's eyes grew wide and stared down at his hands. His fingers began to curl inward, and then his hands started to do the same. A rictus covered his mouth. I could not imagine what Murphy made happen, yet pain clearly began to lance across the man's features.

"Stop it!" He shouted at me as his muscles strained against his tank-top tee-shirt.

"I don't even know what it's doing," I replied while watching him fight to straighten his hands.

"Damn it, Johnson, make it stop!"

People in the hall halted and watched us. I stared blankly at the one called Wolverine. Sweat began to bead on his forehead. His breathing became rapid. His arms trembled as though he struggled to lift a heavy weight.

"I will fucking kill you if you don't make this shit end!" Logan blared at me.

By this time I saw his forearms started to curve downward. I only took a few seconds to realize some force, Murphy, began to bend and bow his radius and ulna in both arms. From what I could see, Logan could not extend his claws.

"Get out of my way and leave me alone, and it should stop," I told him.

He did not wait because his forearms looked even more distorted. Logan stepped aside. I walked past him. In the back of my head I wondered about the odds of Murphy fixing Logan's arms in less than two seconds. A grunt and sigh of relief rapidly followed. Residents and students of the manor stared at me as I passed. The hallway seemed interminably long. However, I did not hear Logan come after me. As I neared the front foyer, Professor Xavier appeared in the hallway further down. Doug, Hector, Marrow, and Stacey hove into view. Charles met me just in front of them.

"Mr. Johnson, I don't recall you notifying anyone you'd be taking your leave for the evening," the man in the wheelchair intoned.

"I seem to recall my being twenty-two years of age and not needing to ask for permission," I bluntly rejoined.

"I thought we discussed…"

"You thought wrong and your memory is slipping, Charles," I interrupted him. "We never discussed it. You just assumed I would back off my demands. I'm not, and I already started packing."

"Theodore…"

Smoke curled out of his chair controller. We all stared at his chair for a few seconds. My friends got to see Murphy in action only on sporadic occasions. I never recalled once the Focus of Probability ever reacting to any of them in any meaningful fashion.

"Look, we're going to White Plains and we should be back before sunrise. Happy now?" I acerbically said once the gray wisps dissipated in the air.

The professor struggled to maintain his composure.

"We're going. Logan already tried to stop me, and it didn't work out well for him. He's okay, but he's not going to interfere."

"Mr. Johnson, this is exactly why…" Charles began to say.

"Don't. Just don't, Charles. You broke your word to me, so I don't see any reason for you to continue. I won't believe you even if you do, and you'll only end up annoying me," I said and took delight in dressing him down.

"I did not break my word to you," the professor returned to one of my assertions.

"Okay. Where's my new office? What team do I serve with? Where's my employment contract with the institute? Why do I have to check in with anyone when I want to go out for a night?"

He winced a little as I rattled off the main list of grievances before he said: "You do remember I was out of the area for the week?"

"And you don't have anyone who fills in for you? Can't anyone make a decision in this place without you micromanaging it to death?" I spat at him.

Students and other X-Men started to gather at various places along the main hallway as Charles and I squared off against one another. Being so very British, the professor likely hated the public display. He preferred confrontations take place behind closed doors so no one would know the exact details of what got said except the participants. In that moment I decided to make all our meetings in the future very public. It stripped him of a tactical advantage and leveled the playing field.

"I waited for a week, Charles, and you did nothing. That is a violation by one week of the proposal I agreed to if I was going to stay. Now tell me what facts I got wrong."

My brown eyes met his gray ones. I could see him seething behind his calm exterior. Far and above the public display, openly calling him duplicitous did not sit well with the man who could not stand. It tarnished his carefully cultivated reputation. From the corner of my eyes I saw the other instructors begin to surreptitiously gather into small groups. My friends remained silent behind me. The back of my neck started to tense up and grow warm. I rubbed it. Charles watched me.

"I do not recall explicitly stating I agreed to you terms," Professor Xavier quietly said.

"Oh, well, I remember telling you you needed to agree to my terms in order for me to stay. So I guess you never intended to agree to any of it and just wanted to find a way to delay me," I growled at him. "Times up. I'm going out tonight and moving out tomorrow."

"You are being rash, Th… Ted."

I shrugged and said: "Maybe, but at least I was patient. I never intentionally misled you, like you did to me, so all deals are off. Now you might want to ask the X-Men to back off 'cause it's getting really itchy in my brain."

Professor X possessed one small tell when he used his powers: his left eyebrow would drop about one millimeter as he telepathically communicated with people. After about five seconds I saw the groups of X-Men begin to casually spread apart. It seemed the professor at least seriously considered Murphy's capabilities. I wondered if he talked to Logan to find out what happened.

"You should not fool with the Focus in your head," the man intoned, and the name he used told me he spoke to others not from this world.

"It found me and never came with an instruction manual. You don't know how it operates any more than I do… and neither does Hank or Brightstorm. Plus, I'm not toying with it, Charles: it's reacting and I'm simply not getting in its way," I explained as I did several other times.

The bald man shifted in his now immobile wheelchair and coolly regarded me until he said: "You are playing a dangerous game, Mr. Johnson, and one we should rightly stop."

I hissed. It felt like someone branded the back of my neck. All the lights around us flickered and several winked out. Many students gasped. Sparks shot out many electrical outlets and light switches. It made me curious as to why Murphy liked to work with electricity so often. I stored the question since I needed to concentrate on the moment.

"I was not threatening you, Ted," Charles said in the now dimly light hallway.

"Murphy sure as hell took it as a threat. I didn't even have time to really react. You want to talk about playing a dangerous game? You toy with Murphy more than I do. It's like you like to pick on me to see what it will do. Is this how you train all your students?" I rumbled and rubbed my neck.

"Teddy?" Stacey's voice rolled into my ears. "Let's just go and have some fun. You can… hash this out later with Charlie."

"There's nothing to discuss with him. I'm leaving tomorrow and I don't give a shit what he says. Let's go," I responded.

I turned. My friends looked worried, except Stacey who seemed more amused than concerned. A strained history lay between her and Professor Xavier on a number of different fronts. She grinned at me. Then she looked over my shoulder.

"I got a real good idea why Mystique left and joined Magneto, Charlie. You've got a knack for driving away the people you need most," she said.

I saw her wince. It only took a second to see Charles did something to her. Murphy flared, and suddenly several flashes erupted behind me. The professor started yelling in panic. I could hear people running toward him. The smell of smoke and burned electrical wires invaded the air around us.

"Told you Murphy likes you," I said to her. "It seems to know who my friends are."

"Thought you said that fucking thing wasn't alive?" Marrow droned.

"It's not, but…" and I trailed off to indicate my rather substantial ignorance surrounding the thing in my head.

"Let's go," Stacey said and almost needed to shout over the growing din as people raced to assist Professor Xavier from whatever Murphy did.

I never turned around as I departed the mansion with my four friends. We moved in silence. It seemed a bit surprising when no one chased after us. When the door closed, the quiet of the young night wrapped around us. Stacey took the lead. She lead us to the parking lot. There a gigantic mid-1972 Cadillac Fleetwood Sixty-Special Brougham sedan painted a canary yellow with a white landau top sat hulking in a parking space. Even in the moonlight the copious amounts of chrome gleamed with garish delight. The grill gave the impression of a feeding baleen whale. Doug started to snicker.

"That is awesome," Hector moaned in near reverence.

"That's not a car: that's a land yacht," Marrow commented.

"That's Paolo…" Stacey started to say.

"It is not small," Hector interjected.

"I meant it ironically."

"That's a lot of irony," Doug quipped, and I saw the grin he wore when he thought himself as clever.

"If you two start the pun bullshit, I'm going to beat you to death," Marrow warned them.

Doug and Hector snickered. I joined in. Stacey grinned as she unlocked the driver-side door. Seconds later we could all see the metal posts pop upward as she unlocked all the doors. Doug, Hector, and I immediately aimed for the back seat upholstered in creamy tan leather. The wood trim, real wood, gleamed in the chrome frames. The opulence of interior seemed so grossly over-the-top it impressed me nonetheless. I made certain I got to sit in the middle, and Doug rolled his eyes at me know why I chose that position. We acted subconsciously on the understanding Marrow needed as much room as she could get in order to ride in a vehicle that did not take her particular physical configuration into account. Stacey's titanic automobile would actually allow Marrow to ride in comfort in the front seat.

"I can't believe how much space is in this thing," Hector said as the three of us spread out on the back bench seat, and no parts of our bodies touched to my disappointment.

"What sort of gas mileage do you get with this car?" Doug, ever practical, inquired.

"Not a lot, but that's not the point," Stacey intoned while strapping herself into the seat.

Marrow struggled to find a non-painful manner to use to the antiquated seat belts. The three of us in the back simply ignored the requirement. A forty-five year old car did not take into consideration modern safety.

"The point," our current hostess continued, "is style, and this car has loads of style. It's a classic."

"It's enormous. Look at the size of that front end," Marrow quipped.

We three young men began to giggle in the back seat. At quick glance at the rearview mirror exposed a smirking Stacey. She clearly seemed to like the vehicle, but she also appeared to appreciate the absurdity of the automobile. However, a scan showed it to be in pristine shape. Either she paid for reconditioning or someone babied and treasured the automotive Gargantua. In a very strange manner, it fit my friend's overall demeanor.

"It's cool, and it weirdly suits you," I said through my snickering.

Stacey fired up the engine and drove us off the Institute campus in old-school style. The engine growled like an overpowered maniac, but it coasted as if we sailed at sea. The Cadillac floated along the roads, expertly controlled by it's current owner, and the occupants grew increasingly merry the closer we got to White Plains. The half hour it took to reach our destination produced a marked change in our collective demeanor. Even Marrow appeared to be enjoying the experience.

"This is the entrance to a bar? What kind of shit hole is this?" Marrow queried and returned to form when we stood outside of a plain metal door tagged with graffiti embedded in a grimy cinder block wall that rose high above our heads.

"And here I thought maybe you didn't judge things by their looks," Stacey intoned in a somewhat disappointed voice.

"Fuck off."

Doug, Hector, and I kept our mouths shut. The friendship between Marrow and Stacey operated through a byzantine set of rules none of us fully understood. Sometimes it functioned only on specific types of mutual antagonism. None of us could figure it out.

"There's a reason why it looks like this. They're trying to avoid advertising what's on the inside," Stacey continued without responding in kind.

"Is that why there's closed stores out in front?" Doug asked although he made clear he knew the answer.

"Right in one," our current party leader said without sounding too sarcastic.

Stacey did not wait for any further conversation. She walked across the small parking lot filled with an assortment of modern vehicles. Her canary-yellow behemoth dwarfed everything around it. If she wanted to inconspicuously travel, Stacey failed in spectacular fashion. My friend walked confidently to the door. She knocked three times, waited a moment, knocked three more times, waited again, and added three more beats. She adopted a bored expression while she stood and crossed her arms. We hovered in a small knot off to the side and watched. Expectation started to bubble in my gut.

Fifteen seconds later the door opened, a deep thudding sound slipped out and around the head the gazed at us through the gap. We returned the somewhat suspicious look. Stacey huffed.

"Do we look like non-mutants?" She asked the silent figure.

An armed snaked outward and pointed at Doug and myself.

"The blond is a meta-linguist and the other guy messes with reality. Neither of 'em have any physical manifestations. Besides, look at me and her. Do you really think we're going to waste our time with dull normies?"

She spoke with such authority the person in the doorway began to back up half way through her explanation. Stacey strode forward as though she not only belonged, but probably owned the place. I started to wonder if maybe she did. She used her powers in ways Professor Xavier did not find suitable, and I privately wonder if Stacey sometimes skirted the edge of the law. The woman appeared completely self-sufficient and never seemed to be in want of anything. It seemed logical to assume Charles could not manipulate her and she rebuffed all attempts. I started to grin as I followed her into the wall of sound trying to push past the doorway. Doug, Hector, and Marrow trailed after her as well. I felt as though a new world awaited us.


	6. Chapter 6

When Ram dropped me off in front of the Institute the next morning, I felt like a new person.

The night before did not proceed as I expected. While Hector, Stacey, and Marrow fit right in once we entered the bar, Doug and I faced deep skepticism. It took Doug a half an hour to prove he possessed an ability that could only originate through mutation. I, on the other, could not do the same. It seemed completely unreasonable to unleash Murphy, not that I contained him very well since people slammed into one another and tripped all around me, because I could not predict exactly what he might do. Murphy buzzed in the back of my head like an angry bee due to the level of antagonism aimed at me. Slowly but surely they maneuvered me into a corner where unused tables gathered in the gay section of the bar. No one needed to tell me I got exile to some sort of no-man's land.

Except I did not sit there alone. In the corner squatting on a chair an adorable little man glared at me and those who quickly dumped me there. The other mutants went back to cavorting, drinking, and dancing. Neither of us got an invitation to join in. More than ever I understood how Rudolph felt at the beginning of that wretched stop-action, animated Christmas special. The little man gazed at me with dark eyes that dared me to say something untoward about him. Murphy started to heat up.

"I think I just got told I'm not welcome," I said to the man, I actually shouted over the music, and watched his face.

"What's a normie doin' in this here place?" He asked, and I heard the blunt assessment in his rather melodic voice.

"Not a normie. My power just doesn't have a physical… outward appearance."

"And what's y'all's power?"

The thick southern accent stunned me for a second because the man appeared Asian. His dark hair and dark, somewhat hooded eyes marked him as such along with the caramel colored skin. The broad nose above the full lips of a wide mouth screamed southeastern Asia to me. Yet the twang in his voice could only come from somewhere in the southern United States.

"I, um… well, I alter reality… the odds of something happening," I freely told him. "What about you? I can see you're a little person, but… that's not classified as a mutation."

Without batting an eye or barely even applying himself, the little man broke the edge off the table before him like he only snapped Styrofoam. Then he reached over and just as easily punch a hole in the brick wall. It did not appear to hurt him in any manner. Murphy grew a bit more agitated. Then the leg on the man's chair gave out and he tumbled to the floor. Two seconds later he sprang up. He eyed me for a moment.

"Y'all do that?" He asked.

I nodded.

"How?"

"I don't know. It has something to do with the probability of a certain event getting raised or lowered. It really works on its own without me doing anything," I freely confessed.

The little man gazed at me as if surprised by the candor of my response. As I thought about it, I doubted many would admit they could not control their ability. Of course, I did not disclose my power did not arise from a mutation. Murphy continued to thrum in the back of my head. I think it continued to react to the overall environment. I glanced over to the dance floor where I saw my friends dancing. Doug, Marrow, and Stacey found dancing partners. Hector simply gave into his inability to remain still when dance music played. No one gave him or his transparent skin a second look. It likely liberated my friend. I returned to looking at the little man.

"Them your friends?" He asked and tipped his head in the direction I looked.

"Yeah," I confirmed.

"They ditch you?"

"No. The other gay mutants herded me over here. Guess they didn't believe I'm one and just wanted to get a freaky freak on," I said.

"Hmm," the man grumbled. "They all just don't like me."

"Why?"

"Not a lot of little people mutants, and they all just tries to treat me like a toy," he drawled.

"You're too handsome to treat like a toy," I said before I could stop myself and felt a blush rise in my cheeks.

The man narrowed his eyes again.

"Sorry, I… you really are good looking. I don't want to say… um, exotic, but those eyes and that skin… edible," I stammered through my explanation.

"Ya funnin' on me?" He asked in a dangerous tone.

I took a moment to fight with Murphy to get him to focus elsewhere. A few lights on the ceiling above the dance floor popped. From the corner of my eye I saw Doug and Stacey glance my way. I ignored them.

"Y'all do that a'gin?" The man inquired and nodded toward the dance floor.

"I'm pretty sure it was," I semi-confirmed. "My power sort of reacts when it thinks someone is threatening me."

"Wasn't threatenin' you, buddy. Just don't want to none of that fun-sized, Mini Me, ain't y'all the cutest fuckin' little thing in the world shit."

"I wasn't making fun of you. Might've been hitting on you a little, but… you are handsome, ah… yeah, my name is Ted," I said and held out a hand.

I felt Murphy pause in my brain as if uncertain about the next few moments. The man looked at my hand, then my face, and slowly extended his arm. Like most little people, his proportions seemed skewed but not distorted. However, when he took my hand and squeezed it, it brought water to my eyes. Murphy roared to life. As stack of chairs in the corner began to fall. I pulled the man out of the way and tried to shield him with my body. The chairs fell and scattered all around me. Seconds later, Doug, Hector, and Marrow converged on my location. They looked ready to fight. I felt the man push against me.

"No, it's not what any of you think," I said as fast as I could. "Murph didn't understand what the man was doing and I didn't get a chance to deflect him. I'm not in any danger. Seriously."

"Murph?" The man queried, and it showed he paid attention to details.

"We call my power Murphy, after Murphy's Law."

"You sure you're okay, Ted?" Marrow asked, and her hands slid into her jacket.

"Shit, this is my fault. Look, we were just sort of introducing ourselves to each other, and he's got one hell of grip. He's strong as fuck, and Murph reacted to the handshake," I explained.

"Oh, um, sorry 'bout that. Didn't mean nothing by it," the little man said.

"I know, but… Murphy doesn't think: it just reacts."

"Need us to stick around?" Doug pressed a point.

"No, go back out there and have fun. I'm doing fine here. I got to get used to the environment, and then it'll be okay," I told my three friends.

Hector began to open his mouth, and I interjected: "Seriously! Get the fuck out of here before Murph thinks you're picking on me."

Marrow smirked, Doug rolled his eyes, and Hector watched me.

"GO!" I ordered them.

After a pause, they turned and returned to the dance floor and their partners. The man backed a bit away from me and sat on a chair. He scanned me with a different expression.

"What?" I inquired when I caught the look.

"Didn't know all y'all was Xers," he said.

"What makes you say that?"

"That pink girl with the big shoulders or wings or whatever it was is wearin' an X-Men belt and that blonde boy is sportin' one their rings. Seeing the way they came to y'all, I'm figurin' y'all are a team or somethin'."

"They're my best friends, we're not on a team, and they are X-Men. I'm the in-house accountant. My power is too unpredictable to put me on a team," I said, and mostly told him the truth.

He held out his hand, and said when I took it: "Name is Ram."

"What's your real name?"

"That is my real name. Fightin' name is Hammerfist. I'm thinkin' ya can sort of see I ain't all white. Listen to how I says it."

I accepted the outstretched appendage as he repeated his name, and I heard the shortened, aspirated vowel sound. I immediately thought of the word Ramen. I mouthed it to myself while I shook the hand. We released the much gentler grip after a few pumps.

"My mam is Thai, and my pa is all sorts of mixed up whitey. Mostly a white mutt, but guess that sort of makes me one, too," he intoned.

"That explains those eyes and the delicious skin tone," I said with admiration.

I saw the corners of his mouth curl into a small smile. Murphy settled down to his basic wariness stance. I grinned.

"When did you find out you're a mutant?"

"Prob'ly when I was born," Ram stated.

"Being a little person is doesn't make you a mutant," I rejoined.

"Shit, most folk think it do, but I take y'all's meaning, but I really sort of knew since I can 'member. Mostly I was stronger and my hands would get all hard and not get hurt when I hit somethin'," he told me. "What 'bout y'all and makin' things go haywire?"

"Right around when I was fifteen I started to notice all these strange occurrences would happen when I got mad or felt like someone was picking one. Not big stuff. That didn't start happening 'til I got to college and went to stay with the X-Men, but all the small stuff happened since I can remember," I recalled.

From there Ram and I just talked. Around us people danced and partied like the first day of Armageddon would take place come the dawn. In fast order it became obvious both of us longed to talk to someone who could personally understand what the other endured. While my friends offered great comfort, to hear Ram explain how his status as a little person did more to affect his twenty-five years of life than his mutant powers seemed an obverse parallel to carrying around Murphy. Despite the commotion and noise, we seemed to forget that and went on with our conversation. Then we discussed growing up gay. For Ram, his childhood spent in southern Tennessee tortured him. Being gay only added to the problems imposed by his physical stature and his mutant abilities. My life in California seemed idyllic and pastoral in comparison. No one in San Diego, even my family, reacted to the news of my sexuality.

"Then when I heard 'bout where X-Men supposedly lived, I came out here as damn lickety-split as I could and ain't never looked back once. There's a whole mess of mutants livin' 'round here 'cause of the X-Men. Sort of makes us feel safe if'n ya know what I mean," he said, and sincerity oozed from his words.

"It's a little different living with them, and that's why I'm moving out tomorrow," I told him.

"Y'all is fool if you do."

"Ram, I can't go into the details, but it's more of prison from me than a home. My ability… it… they don't know what to do with it and just sort of work to keep me contained."

"Ya dangerous?" Ram inquired.

"Aren't we all?" I counted.

He thought a moment and tilted his head back and forth before he said: "Maybe… guess so. Depends all on what it is a person can do. I can see why if'n y'all got not control over that there power they'd be might bit 'fraid of what can happen."

His observation interested me because he stood out as a disinterested third party. I shifted in my chair a little before I said: "My power never killed anyone even though I can sort of, maybe, kind of, sometimes give it a nudge or push in a certain direction. Don't know what it'd do if someone really wanted to hurt me, and maybe that's what they're worried about."

"So earlier y'all was thinking I'd hurt ya?"

"Dude, that grip almost made me cry!"

"Yeah, sorry 'bout that. Thought y'all was having one on me," he confessed again.

"Well, Murphy took you as a real threat, so I'd say you got a lot of power in you… wrapped up in a nice package, too."

"Boy, ya putting your moves on me?" Ram questioned me and smirked.

"Um… is it working?" I countered and failed at keeping a straight face.

His short, broad hand reached over and stroked mine. The fingers felt hard and rough against the skin of my hand. However, the touch itself countered those aspects. I began to react in several ways.

"What's that Murphy fella telling ya now?" He asked.

Murphy dimmed.

"I think he wants to find out more."

"What 'bout you?" Ram continued and his fingers drew small circles on my hand.

"I completely agree with Murphy. We need to find out much, much more," I warbled.

"My place ain't too far from here, and none of my roomies will say shit 'bout me comin' back with y'all."

The invitation made my heart race. I swallowed against the joint excitement and nervousness that leapt into my throat. His dark eyes seemed to suddenly smolder with unspoken possibilities. I slowly began to nod my head.

"Stacey drove, and I don't have a car," I informed Ram.

"Got me an old Miata, so that ain't a problem," he replied.

"And do we need to sit here and discuss the details?"

Ram began laughing. It sounded a bit gravelly as if it belonged to a blues singer, and I liked it. He hopped off his chair. I followed suit and followed him like a puppy dog. As we traversed the edge of the dance floor, I waved down Marrow. She abandoned her dancing partner, an oddly angular and tall gentleman with purplish skin, and trotted over to me.

"Um, me and Ram are going to, ah, go and get…"

"Fucked! Good! You need it, Ted. Coming back when you're done?" Marrow surmised and asked in her unique fashion.

I glanced at Ram. He shook his head from side to side. I looked at Marrow, and she smiled.

"I'll let the others know not to worry," and then she turned to Ram. "Dude, I don't know if you're hung or not, but fuck Ted 'til he can't walk straight. The man's so uptight his power gets more action than him."

Ram busted out laughing at her rejoinder. Marrow smiled at his response. I blushed, and it made her smile even more. She patted me on the cheek.

"Don't hold back and enjoy yourself," my friend told me in a serious tone.

"Thanks," I said.

Then I leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.

"And you have to be goddamn gay, asshole."

With that she spun on one heel and shot back onto the dance floor. I turned and looked at my sudden date. He grinned.

"We're pretty open with each other," I said by way of explanation.

"Means all y'all are tight. Cool," Ram responded.

With that he grabbed my hand, my heart thrilled, Murphy attacked an outlet for a reason I could not determine, and we all headed for the exit.

The next morning after I climbed out of his Miata, not as easy a feat as one might think, I stood and looked at him. He opened the convertible top for the ride to the mansion. We gazed at one another for a moment. I smiled, and he mirrored it.

"Look, I… don't have a lot of experience with this since I came to live here, but… um, would you maybe like to go out with me again sometime," I said and saw his eyes go wide. "Doesn't have to be what we did all night, but maybe dinner and movie or something. I had a lot of fun with you, Ram."

"Y'all are serious?" He rumbled at me.

I rubbed the back of my neck when Murphy began to buzz and tried to keep him at back.

"No, Ted… naw, I ain't meanin' anythin' like that," he rapidly said. "Hell, yeah, I'd like to go out with ya 'gin. I just… can't believe y'all be thinkin' I wouldn't. Shit, dates don't roll much my way. Been a long spell since I got asked for a second one."

"Is that a yes, then?" I asked for confirmation.

"Gimme y'all's damn phone after ya unlock it," Ram gruffly requested.

I did as he asked, and then handed the device to him. I watched as he added himself to my contact list. Then Ram held out both my phone and his. I repeated his actions and added my name and number to his list. Half a minute later we each looked at our phones.

"Ain't felt this good in a long while," he quietly said. "Y'all are okay, Ted."

"You, too, Ram, and I'm feeling just as good. Last night…"

"Next time it's my turn first," he said and winked.

"Deal!" I instantly agreed. "Bye, Ram. I'll text you later to let you know where I end up."

"Or if'n y'all needs help."

"I'll be fine."

He held my gaze for a moment. I raised my hand in farewell. He nodded and then slowly started to pull away. I watched him complete the driveway circuit and head down the long entrance toward the road. The whole time I smiled because, despite how physically wonderful I felt, I discovered I really liked Ram as a person. We talked quite a bit on and off throughout the night before exhaustion finally made us sleep. A minute after I lost sight of Ram's car, I turned and headed into the mansion.

"The professor wants to see you as soon as possible," a young student, whose name escaped me, said in passing.

I got the same message from four other people. Since I his office lay in my direct path, I aimed for it. When I reached the door, I knocked.

"Come in," Charles said in his rather melodious voice.

Murphy did not react, so I knew he did not probe the entrance of his office. I slid open half the portal. Inside I saw the professor in a discussion with Ororo and Rogue. Much to my surprise I saw Quentin Quire, and Murphy roared to life. The legs on his chair snapped off, and he rolled neatly onto his shoulder as he tumbled to the floor. I struggled to redirect Murphy.

"Ah, Quentin, perhaps you can come back later," Professor Xavier said as the young man, barely a man by my standards, stood.

"If you say so," Quentin tersely agreed while giving me a nasty glance.

Sparks shot out of the outlet nearest his leg.

"The… Ted, if you'd be so good as to distract the Focus in your brain," the professor requested.

"I'm trying, but…" I said while I watched Quentin walked along the opposite side of the room toward the doorway.

"Faggot," he mouthed at me, and then promptly tripped on the runner that unexpectedly bunched up under his feet.

Murphy roared in my head. Almost from the first time I met Quentin I learned to hate him. Aside from his staggering telepathic abilities and exceptional intelligence, both of which I severely distrusted, Quentin mocked me at every turn. Murphy frequently attacked him with or without my tacit approval. Thus, watching the young man bang his face on the floor brought me no small amount of pleasure.

"Quentin, please do not antagonize Ted."

"Yeah, I'd hate to see what the odds are your own telepathy can devour the rest of your brain," I snarled.

"Ted!" Ororo yelled at me.

"That was uncalled for, Mr. Johnson," Charles reprimanded me.

"Want to bet?" I coolly answered.

For a brief second I got to see a worried look on Quentin's face. He disappeared through door and closed it. I stood frowning at the remaining people.

"What did you want?" I flatly asked.

"To let you know we've agreed to your terms," Charles informed me, but sounded less than pleased.

"The deal expired a week ago, Charles. So what's the point of this?"

I crossed my arms over my chest.

"Despite your failure to recognize the advantages of remaining at the Institute…"

I derisively snorted.

"I am offering to make you an official employee of the Institute, pay back wages as you requested for your rather impressive if unorthodox work at keeping the books in order," he began to lay out his reasoning.

"I didn't have a lot to do other than that, so not much of a compliment there," I quipped.

"And I recognize you are sitting the New York state CPA exam soon, so that will put you on a professional level."

"But that's not the most important part," Ororo said and stood to face me. "I know you don't trust any of us, and I can't really blame you when I look at it from your perspective, but we never meant to hurt you."

"Yeah, the road to hell is paved with good intentions," I commented.

"Perhaps, but we did seek to protect you. Ted, given your new understanding of the Focus of Probability and it's reactive nature to your state, the Institute still remains the best place where you can try to achieve some equilibrium with it," Professor Xavier neatly piggy-backed on Ororo's statement without actually acknowledging any wrong-doing.

"And you also want to monitor me to make certain I'm not really learning to control it without you knowing how I did it. Plus there's that whole doom's day thing."

He said nothing to my charge.

"Tell me right now the absolute truth about why you want me to stay. No lies. No half-truths. No deceptions. Just the plain truth, Charles," I demanded.

"You can be turned into a weapon by other forces, and we are trying to avoid that. I've spoken to Brightstorm and he made clear his dismay at your cavalier attitude regarding the Focus," Charles intoned in a somber manner. "Although you did not pay heed to the warning, the continuing activity of the Focus does, indeed, make you a marked man. What we fear is someone or something may try to abduct you to control you, and the Focus may create untold devastation in an effort to protect itself by protecting you."

I blinked. He clearly told me the unvarnished truth. It sobered me.

"The school and Westchester itself can provide you some level of protection. The number of mutants in and around the area, something of which I suspect you've known is far more extensive than any imagine, can mask you to some degree. It also provides readily available forces to come to your defense in the event of an attack, Ted. That is what we are really offering," the man seemed to conclude.

Ororo nodded her head the entire time. It appeared the professor confided the whole truth to her as well. I typically did not object to her presence, and it aligned with my new policy of never meeting alone with Charles.

"And you're not lying about accepting all my terms?" I returned to another central point.

"If it means you'll stay and accept what little protection we can offer you, then it is much better than simply letting you go off on your own and unprotected," he gave a somewhat conditional answer.

"Okay," I said, "but the first time you or anyone in the mansion or any of the X-Men try to interfere with me without a good reason, I am out of here."

"What about your team?" Ororo queried.

"What team? Charles said no one would work with me," I countered.

"Ah, but that assumes we're blind, and we are not, Ted," Charles stated as if perplexed. "We've noted the number of times you and your friends leveled some serious damage to the danger rooms. Regardless of how you managed to do it, and perhaps kudos are in order for dismantling the cameras, it shows your group can effectively work together. As with all teams, you will require observation, training, and testing to assess your functional perimeters."

My mouth fell open for a second while I absorbed and interpreted the information. When I pieced it together, I stared at both of them and said: "Just to be clear: you're saying Marrow, Doug, Hector, and me are going to be a team."

"Precisely, and, if she will consent, we will make Stacey an adjunct member of your team. We are also considering other additions who might benefit from working with you. Before you ask, I concede we underestimated your determination and tenacity both alone and in concert with your friends."

"But no apology?" I mumbled.

"I thought that's what I just did," Charles muttered.

"A concession is not an apology. An apology is an admission you were wrong and offended someone. I expect one from Hank as well."

"That may be a long time in coming, but let me apologize to you, then, Ted. I am hoping we can come to a better accord between us and perhaps spare me the cost of constant chair repairs."

"That may be a long time in coming," I repeated his phrase, "but I appreciate the initial effort, Charles."

The man pursed his lips at my reply, and then added: "Let us be clear: you are agreeing to stay?"

"As long as the terms of the agreement are met and nothing better comes along."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Autonomy means I get to change my mind when I want. I think it's safe to assume you'd dismiss me from the house if the circumstances changed. Fair is fair, Charles."

From the look on his face, I could tell I correctly read the situation. Ororo looked a bit peeved as well. Murphy set up a low-level buzz in the back of my head. It meant someone, most likely Charles, did not entire enjoy my interpretation of the arrangement. However, I would stay so long as they did, indeed, meet the terms.

"Where's my new office?" I asked when neither spoke.

"We're converting one of the supply closets and putting in a window. It should be ready by the end of the week. I will leave it to you to transfer what files and equipment you need from the lower level," Professor Xavier stated and regained his normal composure.

"Quite ungallant of you to stick a gay man in a closet."

Something between anger and disbelief rippled across his face. Ororo seemed a bit put out as well.

"Just kidding. Seemed funny to me," I said and shrugged.

"I'm sure it did," Charles dismissively replied.

"Since you did apologize, and make note of that Ms. Munro, I need to say thank you. I won't deny I'm still not comfortable staying here, but I do appreciate that you finally met my terms," I stated.

"Accepted. Now, let's see if the Focus can adjust to the new conditions," Charles intoned.

The meeting ended shortly afterward following a few more forced pleasantries. I requested a new work computer since the antique I used in the basement would undoubtedly suffer a catastrophic crash to the floor. Once I left his office, part of my mind wrestled with trying to determine what made Charles change his mind. He did not give in without a fight, but it seemed very mild. A small bit of my brain suggested maybe the professor truly did worry someone or something might try to take control of me. Since Murphy did not need me conscious to operate, he could indeed cause considerable destruction.

When I reached my room, I sent out a message to my friends to meet me for lunch at noon in the dining room. It gave me well over an hour to prepare. Before I went to take a needed shower, I pinged my sister on Skype. She tended to rise early due to her paranoia. She seemed surprised by the unexpected call, but quickly forgave me as I gave her what limited news I could. Mary asked when I would be coming home, and I fibbed about waiting for final approval. However, I promised it would be soon. Given I went back to San Diego every summer, I could not see Charles denying me the time off. After half an hour when she began to run down her list of reasons why the government messed with our parents, I slowly started to end the call. I instructed her to give my love to our parents and to our brother. She did, but sounded wary about doing so.

At noon I trotted down the stairs from the private quarters to the main foyer. Hector stood at the bottom of the stairs dressed like he attended a preparatory school, apparently waiting for us, and as best he could he grinned like a Cheshire Cat. It seemed Marrow spread the word about my overnight tryst. I privately hoped it might turn into more over time. His smirk set me to smiling.

"So did Murph help or hinder your, ah, night of passion?" Hector asked and could not refrain from giggling at the end.

"Actually, he slept through it. Apparently he doesn't consider Ram or what he did to me a threat," I replied.

"Ram?" He asked in a seeming shock.

"Get your mind out of the gutter," I chastised him. "He's half Thai, and it's a common Thai name for males."

"Yeah, I was going to ask about his ethnicity. Got a bet with Doug. He said Filipino and I said Indonesian."

"You both loose. Thai mother and American father… and Ram grew up in Tennessee!"

"That why he had that fucked up accent? Thought he might be Japanese or something," Marrow said from behind me and almost made me jump out of my skin.

Doug stood behind her with a grin nearly as bad as Hector's if one could see it.

"You confused a southern accent with a Japanese accent?" I complained at her with the question.

She took my comment in stride as she strode down the stairs and started to turn left while she said: "In this line of work I don't stop to fucking ask where their family is from."

"Oh, speaking of this line of work, have any of you talked to Charles this morning?"

Our quartet sauntered to the dining room. Others moved in the same direction both before and behind us. I could already smell the odors wafting up from the portable steam tables used to serve us buffet-style. I hoped the better cooks saw to the meal. While listening to my stomach growl, I also heard none of my friends spoke to our supposed patron. It meant I got to deliver important news.

"For starters, they agreed to put me on a team," I told them first.

"Dude, good job!" Hector immediately congratulated me.

"Yeah, they'll find out you and Murph can be helpful," Doug added.

"Poor saps," Marrow grumbled and shook her head.

Instead of playfully slapping at her arm, I said: "I wouldn't call myself a sap."

Marrow stopped. Doug ran into her, and Hector needed to backtrack. The real fighter among us searched my face.

"Ted, what the hell did you do?" She demanded.

"It wasn't my idea, but it's not a bad one… maybe not for the three of us," I replied and moved my hand around to indicate the other two males.

"God dammit! I like my team. We get along. We all know our roles and we don't fuck around. We get the job done. Now you've gone and screwed that up!"

"Marrow, what are you talking about?" Hector implored her.

"Don't you get it?"

Even Doug appeared perplexed.

"Shit, they're making a team out of us! The four of us and who knows what other misfits they can dig up," Marrow half-shouted at Doug and Hector causing several people to stop and stare at us.

"Five if Stacey agrees to an adjunct spot. I know she won't formally join the X-Men again, but maybe she'd be willing to help us out every once in a while," I explained in an overly-enthusiastic manner.

"Hold on," Doug said and held up his hands as if pushing back against the news. "They're making a team out of you, me, Marrow, and Hector 'cause you demanded to be on one?"

"Yeah, that about sums it up. Oh, and Stacey on a part-time basis if she agrees."

"Ted, you're nuts. What kind of team can we be? Marrow is the only one with a field-ready ability. What am I going to do: gross them out?" Hector retorted and uncharacteristically identified the weakness in his mutation.

"That's why I wanted to have lunch, so I can tell you what I talked to Charles and Ororo about… oh, and I got Quentin to smash his face on the floor," I said with the hope the point I scored on Quentin might lighten the sudden downturn in mood.

"Murphy did that," Doug reminded everyone.

"Jesus Fucking Christ, we're goin' to get killed," Marrow grumped and restarted walking toward the dining room, or rather stomped.

"I'm already on a team, too," Doug said as he started following our friend.

"Ted, we don't have any real powers. Murphy does all the work for you and you can't control what he does. I'm pretty much useless in a fight against augmented people. I'll be… I'll be… ser como jamón del sandwich!" Hector exclaimed.

He also stormed off to join the others. I stood watching them retreat to the dining room. Somehow I convinced myself it would be a shared moment of triumph for the four of us. It went so far afield from that I began to count it as a failure. With my spirits dipping after such a wonderful evening and a more or less positive meeting with Charles, I felt let down.


	7. Chapter 7

It did not help that Ororo took it upon herself to be our team instructor. She drafted an overloaded schedule for the first two weeks and delivered it to us at Sunday dinner. I informed her I would only attend half her drills since I needed to study for the CPA exam. Ororo grudgingly agreed, but she did not let the others off the hook. Doug, Hector, and Marrow refused to speak to me during the meal. The disappointment I felt earlier renewed itself with a vengeance. We barely said good-night to one another when we finished eating.

The week progressed awkwardly. Moving from one office to another did not present a problem since I simply needed to access a shared drive on the Institute's server farm and carry up half-a-dozen ledgers from the sub-sub-basement. The other paperwork could remain in old office and I would access it as needed. My eagerness to move offices meant I spent three days working out of my room. However, when they completed the refurbishing of the old supply closet, I began working out of there on Friday morning. The smell of the paint gave me a headache, but I luxuriated in staring out a window. Granted, I saw mostly a hedgerow, but a slice of sky became mine. The new laptop awaited me on the same morning.

On the days when we trained as a group, an issue over which Marrow seemed to hold a grudge, it proved a taxing affair. Ororo could not say exactly what role we would play or what missions would best suit our unusual combination of talents. The Monday training became an argumentative disaster. The Wednesday training did not fare much better. Friday got consumed by Hank explaining in exhaustive detail the capabilities and operation of the Blackbird. He ignored the fact all of us went through the same training class at least three times. Hank constantly referred to us as the newest and untested unit. By the end of that session, I believe my friends garnered an appreciation for what I endured at the hands of the man.

Every day I spent at least one hour, most often three, studying for the certified public accounting examination. Few people fully understood I would sit in four separate examinations lasting four hours apiece. I used on-line practice tests as well as general studying. Somewhat to my annoyance I found the time I spent acting as the accountant for the Institute would serve me well in exams. Since I already garnered my testing eligibility when I applied to the state board after graduating, I gave myself four months to complete the CPA exams. My personal timeline drew nigh, and I crammed as hard as I could. I would start the exams the following week and take two of them, and then complete the final two the following week.

On Thursday I met Ram for dinner after exchanging texts throughout the week. He picked me up in his dented Miata, and we headed off for a coney island. I wanted junk food after the workouts on Monday and Wednesday.

"Y'all are lookin' tired, Ted," Ram said as we snaked through the country lane leading away from the mansion.

"Training for my new team, studying for my CPA exams, and my regular work day is kicking my ass," I admitted to him. "I know we talked about going out on Saturday, but maybe we can just stay in watch a movie or something."

"We'll have to fight my roomies for the tee-vee."

"I was hoping you'd be willing to just kick back in my room."

"At the mansion?" Ram queried and sounded skeptical.

"That's where my room is," I answered and smirked.

"Sure they're gonna want me there?"

"Ask me if I care what they want."

Ram gripped the steering wheel a little tighter in his hands, and I think I heard something crack. He seemed bothered by the idea of spending time at the Institute. We drove in silence for a minute as he watched the road with more intensity than necessary. Given my relationship history, I decided on a single tactic.

"Out with it, Ram. What bothers you about the mansion?" I asked in as friendly a voice as I could.

"They said they didn't want me 'cause of my height and my powers not bein' 'ceptional. Said anyone could be strong and have tough fists," he told me with justifiable anger tinting his words.

"They're loss, and it's a bullshit excuse. They accepted Jubilee, and she just shoots fireworks. You must've pissed someone off and that classified you as insubordinate."

"Them there fella with the spikes comin' out of his hands gave me shit 'bout my size, and I told him he was only an inch away from bein' a dwarf hisself. He didn't like it much," Ram explained.

"Right there. You made Logan, Wolverine, mad wh…"

"I pissed off Wolverine?" The man I wanted as a boyfriend interjected.

"You didn't know that was him?" I asked.

"Never made proper introductions, see? I only ever sees him on tee-vee, and then he's usually strolling into the jet thing all y'all have for flyin' 'round in. That boy is a lot shorter 'an what he looks in pictures and television."

"I remind him of that all the time."

"How come they ain't done throwed you out yet, then?" Ram rightfully questioned.

"Because, like I told you, this power in my head is unpredictable and can cause a lot of destruction. The only reason I agreed to stay is because they offer some protection," I said and faked sounding bored by the topic. "Besides, I'm the accountant for the house and they need me for the books. I'm more of an employee than an X-Men."

"But they put you on a team."

"Only because I demanded it, and then they picked my friends – the ones you saw at DNA last Saturday – and it doesn't make us much of one. Unless Stacey… did you meet her?"

"Dark eyes and dark hair. Purplish, kind of scaly skin. All the guys runnin' 'round with their pants sticking out?" Ram neatly described her and the effect she caused.

"That's the one," I confirmed through a chuckle. "Well, we're trying to get her to be a part-timer with us. If she doesn't, Marrow is the only one with any real fighting credentials. Hector, Doug, and me are basically just normal guys with one ability. So you see them not accepting you hinged on something else 'cause you make a better X-Men than us three."

Ram frowned.

"It's a rigged system, Ram. It comes down to what Charles wants and whatever long-range plans he makes. He's got pretty warped ideas about what makes an ideal candidate, and yet he surrounds himself with people of questionable moral character. Logan's a good example."

"How's that?"

"If I read the reports right about his past, he's more or less a mass murder who's coming up on two hundred years old. Charles gives him all sorts of breaks. Sure, he's had it rough a few times, but the guy is fucking lunatic. If it weren't for Murphy he'd've probably killed me by now," I explained, but mostly gave my opinion.

"Y'all get into a tussle?" The handsome little man driving the car asked as we turned on the main street leading into Westchester.

"Not really a tussle. I sparred with him in the danger room a few times when I first got here, and Murph wouldn't let him get near me. I also figured out a couple of ways to neutralize him. Shit, I figured out a way to neutralize most of the X-Men and…"

"And y'all don't get why they all want to keep you around? Damn, Ted, if'n y'all got that figured out, they's scared of you and think makin' you one of them'll keep 'em safe. Boy, stop thinkin' all y'all friends are do-nothings. Use that there brain y'all's got in your head to sort out what they can do an' not what what they can't," Ram interrupted and upbraided me to a small extent.

I stared at him as he drove.

"Christ, man, now it's got me worrying how y'all'll neutralize me… as y'all said. Ever think maybe that there might be a real power? Hmm? Thinkin' ahead and seein' a way through it?"

"Damn it, Ram, why'd you have to put that idea in my head?" I grumbled.

Ram smirked, but my brain started to plot a way to stop Ram if he ever turned on me, and I did not believe he ever would. However, once the seed got planted in the fertile ground of my imagination, it rapidly took root and started to grow. The answer that popped into my head sounded ludicrously simple.

"So, ah, tell me, what would happen if you hit yourself in your own head with a full-on punch?"

"Ted, y'all are one scary motherfucker," Ram replied and shook his head. "Prob'ly take my head clean off if I was usin' a super punch. Man, I can go through a steel door like a hot knife through butter. Shit, it'd prob'ly beak my neck at the least."

If what I said actually scared Ram, he did not show it. We continued to talk about what I faced in the upcoming weeks. When I asked what he would be doing, he said he would laying brick like he did most of the year. I learned from our previous night together that his superhuman strength meant he could do jobs not normally suited for little people. Ram said he liked being outside and not stuck in a building, so the building trades seemed best for him. Even though he needed to think of solutions to elevation problems, he prided himself on the quality of his mason work and that usually sold him to construction crews.

After we ate, Ram took me on a drive and showed me some of the buildings on which he worked. At one point we stopped, got out of the car, and he showed me sections of a brick fascia he laid and a portion done by another mason. Even my untrained eyed could see the superior craftsmanship in Ram's section. The rows looked frighteningly level and joints so even it looked like grid paper. Ram proved another point he raised earlier: thinking of what one could not do blinded a person to what could be done. Ram used his mutant abilities in surprising ways. I needed to apply my thinking in the same manner. I rewarded him as best I could for helping see the situation in a different light. His housemates made fun of us for the loud celebration we conducted.

On Saturday when I skipped meeting my friends for breakfast and sat in my room reading accounting regulations and thinking of Ram, a knock I heard the week before echoed through my chambers. It made me smile because, of all people, Stacey did not need to knock.

"It's open, Stacey," I called and sat back in my chair.

The lean angular form of Stacey X sauntered like a cat on the hunt through the doorway when it opened. A filmy light ocher top of nearly sheer material, cinched at the waist by a thin black belt, complimented the vermilion-color leather pants glued to her hips and legs. Per her standard, long stiletto-heeled shoes covered her feet. I could well imagine the lethality of that footwear.

"Jesus, Stacey, you could wear a burlap sack and make it look like it came from House Chanel. You look fucking stunning!" I complimented her as the alluring, exotic scent of her perfume and natural ability slithered into my nostrils.

"You really should be playing for our team, Teddy. You give the best compliments," she cooed at me.

Seconds later she leaned against my desk and I swear it got an erection.

"Speaking of teams…"

"I already said yes," she cut me off. "Doug called me on Monday and told me what you told them. Marrow is still angry and wouldn't talk to me about it at breakfast. She liked her team, Ted."

"I know, but this wasn't my idea. I just wanted to get attached to team at first, but… I've been thinking. You're very level-headed, so I want your honest opinion on something."

"Can you get any sweeter," Stacey said, leaned over, and kissed my cheek.

Somewhere in the mansion Doug and Hector likely went through sympathetic fits when I did not physically react to my friend's light peck. Stacey's pheromone emission wrapped itself around my head like a cloud. I barely felt a twinge. If a man with that ability did that to me, I would probably pass out or my groin would explode.

"So lay it on me, Teddy," she requested when I did nothing more than smile and wink at her. She parked herself against the edge of my desk.

"We're not strike team," I began and looked up at her. "I know you and Marrow can beat the hell out of just about anyone, but Hector, Doug, and me… that's not really our forte."

"And what is?"

"Thinking… and planning. What if we set ourselves up as a reconnaissance, infiltration, and intercept squad? There's power in information, Stacey, especially before a big mission gets rolling. Wouldn't it be useful if an earlier team got in, got details, and got the information into the strike team's hands? Wouldn't that help guarantee better odds of success and less chance of anyone getting killed?"

Stacey watched my face the entire time. She appeared thoughtful, and I appreciated she did not make an immediate pronouncement. After a few seconds, she crossed her arms across her chest over which, I felt certain, men died. It seemed inappropriate the sound of gears rapidly spinning did not emanate from her while she thought.

"Okay, I can see Doug's role. I can sort of see Marrow's role. You're there to make sure nothing really stops the team. I would the same thing as Marrow, but Hector?" Stacey clearly delineated what each member might do, and it outstripped my ideas by a small margin.

"Yeah, been stuck on that for a while. He's smart and intuitive. Hector's a hell of a lot braver than anyone give him credit for, but…" and I trailed off as I came to dead end.

"What good is a man without a face?"

I stared at her as the question rolled around my brain. The word face reverberated because typically that set him apart. I never saw Hector wear shorts in public. He usually wore gloves. If he knew he would be spending a lot of time out in the open, he wore his latex face. My eyes slowly grew bigger. They met Stacey's. She also seemed excited by some thought.

"Cutey-pie, what if that's his role. He doesn't have a face, so sometimes he makes one," she said and it matched my idea.

"And what if he could make and wear a familiar face for the places we're trying to get into?" I added.

"I hope he's as brave as we think he is because this would put him in a lot of danger."

"Oh, he's got a very good friend who would look out for him."

Stacey reached over and tapped me in the middle of my forehead and said: "Murphy, we've got a job for you."

I snickered.

"You really are pretty clever, Teddy. Maybe that's why Murphy picked you. Being powerful isn't always an advantage if you don't know how to apply it. Ever think Murphy might be tired of just sitting back and letting things happen?" My beautiful friend inquired.

"It's not alive like that. It doesn't think. It's sort like a living embodiment of specialized math… on a universal scale. What I want it to do doesn't register on it's radar. Keeping me alive is probably easy compared to running the odds on every subatomic particle every second of every minute of every day," I replied and shrugged.

"Well, I know this: Murphy seems to understand the value of friends and threats to you. Charles told me what happened with Quentin and what you said to him. You do realize no one their right mind who knows what's in your head would attack you?"

"And that's either the problem or maybe a benefit: what's in me can't be observed. There's nothing about me that says Murphy is doing something. I look ordinary."

"Oh, sweetie," Stacey purred at me and leaned over to give me a kiss on the cheek again. When she sat upright, she said: "Looks are deceiving. I thought you'd realize that by now. I mean, look at that handsome bit of man you found. If you just saw him walking down the street would you ever think he'd take a liking to you?"

"God, I like him, Stacey. He's the one who got me thinking about what our team is really worth… so you made a good point," I said and smiled. "I'm going to petition Charles to let Ram join us. Jesus, you, Marrow, and Ram would make a killer strike team."

"But you have other plans."

"Yeah, and we need to get our hands on Maggot and Ink."

Her eyebrows went upward.

"Oh, I've been thinking about the ones the rest of the X-Men think are worthless. They have so underestimated the potential of those two, and they'd fit in perfectly with what I know we can do. We need to show Charles and Logan and Hank and Rogue their evaluations of people aren't worth shit," I said and grew angry by the end.

The lamp on my desk flickered and went out. In the glow radiating from my laptop, I saw Stacey smile in a way that would unnerve most people. The shadows that gathered when the lights went gave her an entirely different appearance. She seemed menacing, and yet I knew she did not aim it at me. Murphy did not react to her.

"Honey, now you're singing my song," she breathed out the words like a venomous snake.

Twenty minutes later we gathered with Doug, Hector, and Marrow in my new office. Any listening or surveillance devices got fried by Murphy on Friday when I got frustrated by the training session announced for that day. My friends occupied the chairs or leaned against the wall. Stacey took the lead in explaining what we discussed since I knew the other continued to harbor some resentment toward me. Besides, I knew it would sound much, much better coming from her. It would reel in Doug and Hector. Marrow would be a harder sell, but I thought of a trump card.

"That is a great idea," Doug immediately chimed when Stacey finished.

"But it takes a while to make a new face for me," Hector said, yet he sounded intrigued by the concept.

"We can figure something out," I said.

"I've got an idea for that," Stacey mumbled on top of my statement.

"I don't get what bringing in your fuck buddy, Maggott and Ink are going to do for us," Marrow griped.

"Ram… Hammerfist can punch his way through solid steel doors and he's got superhuman strength. He could toss you through the air so you can annihilate whoever is on the other side. From what he says he's something of a fighter. Plus he can walk under closed-circuit cameras without getting noticed."

"And the other two?"

"Punching our way through a barrier isn't always the best option. It'd be loud and draw attention to us. It'd be a tactic of last resort. Now if we had, say, some sort of organism that could eat it's way through what's blocking us…"

"It'd be quieter, and then he'd be powered up, too," Doug said and read right into my thinking.

"Ink?" Marrow returned to the last proposed member.

"Oh, that man has powers, so don't be fooled. He's actually more dangerous than anyone admits, and they keep him here for the same reason they keep Ted," Stacey piped up. "Eric is on the same watch and guard list."

The other three in the room glanced at each other. They looked a touched surprised. We all knew Ink did not actually possess a mutation, like me, but received his powers from the tattoos he got from a mutant artist who imbued them with power. Eric Gitter, Ink, often got dismissed or overlooked. Some made fun of him because they did not understand the full capabilities of those tattoos. I read about him a year and a half before in some of the reports I used for accounting. I learned about Maggott, sometimes he called himself Japheth, in the same manner. Their stories stuck with me.

"That'd give us eight people on the team… two more than most. Do you think Charles will allow it?" Hector inquired, and I could tell he tried to work out the logistics of such a team.

"Why not? I've heard people don't trust the slugs in Maggott's gut. He's drifted in and out of the X-Men for years. Maybe he might want to be on a permanent team that actually wants him and respects his abilities," I answered.

"The same goes for Ink. I don't think anyone's ever requested him. He'll jump at the chance to prove himself," Stacey added.

"Aren't we a little heavy on the sausages here? Weren't there any women mutants available?" Marrow complained, and I thought it legitimate.

"Jubilee is on a team that likes her. Lifeguard left with her brother Slipstream, and I don't think they're coming back," Stacey responded.

"Choir… well," Doug muttered, and we all muttered along with him.

"Just not a lot of supposedly worthless female X-Men. Doesn't say much for the males," I commented as I thought about it. I changed tracks in my head and said: "So what do you think? This could make us a valuable and highly sought after team."

Again, it came down to Marrow. Her hesitancy came from a number of different sources. First, she did form part of a team that knew how to utilize her to good effect. Whether or not her teammates actually liked her did not seem important. Second, Marrow did like to fight, and on many levels. Missions and training gave her the chance to expel her pent-up emotions and frustrations. Finally, she simply tended to be distrustful of anything at the start. Oddly enough I saw that as a positive aspect. It meant Marrow questioned everything, and that would be good for an infiltration team. We needed her probably more than she needed us. The fact Stacey hopped on board increased our chances of persuading her. Murphy remained quiet on the subject.

"Let's say for a second Baldy is going to let us do this and not give us six tons of shit. How do we work?" Marrow moodily asked, but I could hear her trying to figure it out.

"Hector, Doug, and Maggot are the intel guys. Hector gets in, listens, observes, and does surveillance. Doug listens to communications and deciphers any covert or foreign language. Because he can read languages, he can break codes. We can also put him in Hector's ear, too. Maggott's got some clairvoyance thing he can do right after the slugs feed. He can tell us what's been going on," I began to lay out the plan and fleshed it out as I spoke.

"Okay, that makes sense."

"You, Stacey, Ink, and Hammerfist, if we can get him in, are the enforcers and the rescue squad if anyone gets caught. You'll need to train more like assassins than street fighters. Hammerfist and Maggott can create our emergency exits if things go bad."

"And you and Murphy just change the odds as we go along, right?" Hector asked about my role.

"Pretty much. He increases all of your chances of success and fucks up the other side if things start to go sideways. It's the primary reason why we're all going to wear mics and ear pieces: if I don't have some idea of what's going on, Murphy might not know we're in trouble or he might get out of control," I clarified my particular assignment and one possible solution to a problem.

"We can do this, sweeties, and do it good if we prepare," Stacey firmly stated. A noticeable absence of her primary power caught my attention. It appeared she did not want to addle the minds of Doug and Hector.

"If we train right, seriously think through scenarios we might face, and make a shit load of contingency plans, our so-called weaknesses became very effective strengths… but it really is going to come down to teamwork," I followed up with what could be our biggest hurdle since Marrow, Stacey, and me did not always play well with others.

"This is a decent idea," Doug noted while nodding his head.

"Stacey, what's your idea about my disguises?" Hector asked and circled back to another issue.

The woman who oozed such palpable, raw sexuality smiled and said: "How many mechanical geniuses are in this place? I can get Dr. McCoy to make something like a 3-D printer… maybe a stylized vacuform that can create a new face for you when we need one. And, trust me, I can get Hank to do just about anything. He is a man under all that fur."

We all smirked at the notion of the Beast falling under Stacey's spell. Her answer, however, definitely appealed to Hector. I could see where such a gizmo would be useful for him outside of missions. It meant he could make his face whenever he wanted and not just on special occasions. No matter where a person sat or stood in that small office, I could feel plan coming together. Marrow stared at the top of my desk, apparently lost in thought. Doug, like me, watched the faces. Hector looked pleased. Stacey remained standing next to me. We only needed one more yes vote, and I knew this needed to be a unanimous decision.

"Fine. I'll join your fucking team," Marrow said and then she looked at each and every one of us. "But only on a trial basis. If this shit doesn't come together in a month or two, then I'm going back to my old team. Got it?"

"If you're only going to give us a month or two, then we need to train hard," I replied and let my words imply I accepted her terms. "But it's gonna have to wait 'til I'm done with my CPA exams. I worked too hard in college to get to this point."

A glance at my watch said it took far less time to convince them of the idea than I thought it would. Doug and Hector got influenced by the chance to work with Stacey, and she did not use her power to make that happen. Marrow gave in much faster than I expected. It seemed a fair bet the notion she would be working with actual friends likely tipped the scales. No matter how much she complained about how humanity treated her, and it did treat her poorly at times, one small segment always stood in her corner from the moment we came together.

"Okay, now we get to have a contest in our group," Stacey announced and caught me off-guard. "We need a code name for our team. How about a week from today we get together and pick one?"

She got met with general round of agreement.

The five of us then left my office, and it appeared to me we walked a little different. We headed to the stairs that would take us to training rooms. None of us wanted to risk my running into someone neither Murphy or I disliked and getting stuck on an elevator with an agitated Focus of Probability.

On Tuesday after I returned from my first examination, and I felt mentally exhausted, but we made an assault on Charles's office. We gathered in front of his chamber door, knocked, and did not wait for an answer. Inside we found him on a conference call with Scott Summer's who currently lead Sacramento office. Mutants loved hiding in California as much as New York, not that I ever encountered many in San Diego. Ororo, Hank, and Logan glared at us. We did not budge.

"Scott, something just came up. Can I call you back in a little while?" Charles calmly said into the speaker phone. I think he feared Murphy might make it a target.

"Sure, but we got drills in an hour," Scott's voice rang through the air.

"Give fifteen or twenty minutes."

"Fine. Bye."

Then line clicked and the dial tone droned out of the speaker.

"How did your test go, Th… Ted?" Professor Xavier inquired.

"What the hell do you want? We got better things to do tha…" Logan began to snipe at me and talked over the professor.

The leg of his chair snapped off and he tumbled backward. We watched, and I tried to hide my amusement. I saw my compatriots looked a bit stiff as they also maintained their composure. We agreed before we came in we would not argue with Charles or any of the other senior members. If our case did not persuade based on its merits, turning the discussion into an ordeal would only further doom it. However, Murphy played by its own rules.

"Logan, they are here for a reason. I detect an air of purpose around them," Charles said.

Ororo and Hank watched us in silence. The Wolverine picked himself up off the floor and threw daggers at me with his eyes. Then he winced. He looked elsewhere. Murphy began to calm. Even though he got superior protection with his adamantium reinforcement and he could regenerate at a ridiculous speed, Logan still felt pain. It seemed to be worse for him if it happened internally. I always kept those facts in mind with confronting him.

"We figured out where we fit I all this," I said. "No thanks to any of you, of course."

"Self-enlightenment is always self-directed," the professor retorted, but he smiled. "Now, what purpose drove you to interrupt a rather important meeting."

None of us moved, and Stacey said: "We've decided we're not a strike team."

"Even though you and Marrow are perfectly suited for that?" Hank rumbled.

"Fuck off, fur ball," Marrow grumbled.

"Please, let us be cordial and civil," Charles intoned in a droll manner.

I could feel a tension building between those of us who stood to make our presentation and those who sat in judgment of our ideas. In the past day Stacey and I staked a lot on this new purpose. Marrow's edginess stemmed from a continuing anger at being forced to switch teams. I hoped she would not torpedo our plan in the hopes of returning to the status quo.

"It may not look like it at first, but this team is better equipped for reconnaissance, infiltration, and surveillance," I stated before Marrow could start an argument.

"Interesting, and how did you come to this conclusion?" The head of the institute asked with a small glint in his eye.

"Doug is a language and code breaker. If we can rig a system so Hector can stamp out faces, he really will become a wraith. Marrow and Stacey are the brute squad, and Murphy naturally shifts the odds around to make sure my friends stay safe so I stay safe," I explained and faced each person as I spoke about her or him.

"Hmm. You've clearly considered the capabilities of your new teammates. Your role is also clever even though it violates the concept you're to leave focus in your head alone."

"You and I both know that's never going to happen, Charles."

"Just can't resist playing with fire, huh?" Hank grumbled at me.

I watched as a small black stain appeared on the front of his white lab coat from inside the breast pocket. It slowly grew as the seconds ticked. Dr. McCoy did not notice, and I thought it one of the more subtle attacks Murphy ever launched. I could barely contain my excitement to see how he would react when he discovered one his suits and a beloved lab coats got ruined.

"That's not all. We need to expand this team to be really effective. We've got a couple or three candidates in mind," I stated while trying to keep my eyes fixed on the professor.

A small aspirated growl issued from Hank. He detested being ignored. I never even looked at him. While Dr. McCoy might be allowed some input into the decision, it would ultimately come down to what Charles Xavier thought. Hence, I maintained my focus on him all the while the spot on Hank's clothing expanded to the size of pancake.

Charles, too struggled to ignore the spreading ink and finally looked at me to ask: "And who did you have in mind, Ted."

"Ink and Maggott," Stacey said in my place, and I did not mind since I did not think I could say Ink's name without giggling. "Their skill sets will merge well with ours."

"Then I take it you, Ms. Leevald, plan on remaining with this group?"

"As long as it provides me with some shits and giggles, why not?"

From the corner of my eye I saw Marrow frown a bit. She implied several times she expected Stacey to stay for the duration of the team's existence. Stacey, however, never openly agreed. I realized the lack of mutual understanding on that point may lead to a fracturing in the future, but we would deal with it when the day arrived. Long before that happened, we needed to present a unified front.

"Very interesting choices," Charles said with what amounted to approval in his voice.

"And my friend, Ram Darby... who goes by the name Hammerfist. You rejected him three or four years ago, but you made a mistake. Between him, Marrow, Stacey... and probably Maggott and Ink, we'd be able to defend ourselves if a situation goes south," I explained our reasoning for the additional members.

"That is a rather large team."

We prepared for that statement and Doug took charge of answering it when he said: "It means we can configure ourselves for a variety of settings and conditions. It will give us flexibility to ensure success. Besides, they need a team who wants them, and we want them. It works out for all of us."

"This is fucking ridiculous," Logan snarled, and leg snapped off the second chair he occupied. He expected the retaliation and never fell over. "You can't be seriously considering this, Charles. They'll get themselves killed and who the fuck knows what'll happen if that thing in Ted's head thinks he's in real trouble."

"And that is where they thought ahead, my friend. Ted's survival depends on the survival of his team. If the focus factors them into his survival chances, it will likely move to protect them. This isn't nearly as ridiculous as you assume. I'm impressed and intrigued in equal measure," Professor Xavier told all of us.

Ororo tried to keep a neutral expression in place. Hank frowned. He clearly did not support the idea, but likely because he disliked me and feared Murphy. Logan masticated his cigar as if he chewed on nails. Charles, conversely, appeared thoughtful.

"Tell me, Ted, have you conferred with Mr. Darby about this plan?" He asked.

"No, not yet. I didn't want to get his hopes up since I didn't know if you'd approve any of this," I responded.

"First, I do approve. I think your rationale for converting into an intelligence and surveillance squad is sound. Moreover, information prior to a mission is critical. Secondly, the idea of including Eric and Japheth is also appealing because I fear we are on the verge of losing both of them."

That bit of news did not surprise any of us. I mentally began to tally the number of mutants who disappeared from the ranks of the X-Men. A few, by their very nature, found it difficult to integrate into a collaborative organization. Many became disenchanted with the organization on the whole for a variety of reasons, most of which I felt at one time or another. Some went so far as to form their own mutant groups. To hear Ink and Maggott might be planning on leaving fell in line with certain trends inside the X-Men.

"Very well. We'll give you at least six months to train and prove the viability of your team concept," Charles announced following a few silent moments. "Please speak with Mr. Darby and have him come to the Institute for further evaluation and possible incorporation. I'll inform Japheth and Eric of the new assignment... and I will note you requested them."

An irrational sense of gratitude assailed me. A lump formed in my throat. Part of my mind told me Charles knew he just bought six months of peace between us. However, peaceful or not, I fully intended to make the team a success. All of us needed that success for a variety of reasons.

"I will leave it you as a group to determine what training you will need to move forward. We can coordinate resources and schedules," the man in the wheelchair continued. "Hank, please work with Hector and Stacey to see what can be done about their equipment needs. I think you may be faced with challenging and rewarding creative endeavor."

"If you insist," Dr. McCoy said in a low voice.

"Oh, I do, and that goes for the rest of the senior staff. This gives us a chance to explore diversifying not only the core functions of our teams, but the types of missions we can choose. As is often said forewarned is forearmed."

I suddenly felt we got left out of the discussion. Not only did Charles approve, but he seemed hellbent on taking over concept. That started to annoy me. Murphy buzzed in the back of my head, so I forced myself to think happy thoughts and fake a better reaction. Murphy only relented a small amount.

"Very well," Charles said in a frighteningly pleased manner. "Your initiative is refreshing, all of you. If successful, I can see a whole host of problems being solved in one fell swoop. Very good, Ted… and the rest of you. I commend your adventurous spirits."

The words sounded nice, but I got the impression the man did not entirely mean what he said. Perhaps he did, but something else lurked under the surface. I tried to discount my native distrust of the man and his motives. Even then his enthusiastic support for the idea made me suspicious.

"Um, thanks," I said. "Seriously, thank you, Charles. I honestly wasn't expecting this much support from you."

My teammates murmured in agreement. Charles faced us. Ororo looked on as well. Both Hank and Logan gave off an air of mixed anger, disbelief, and disgust.

"Ted, we've had our differences in the past, true, but what you've shown me here, right now, demanded I respond in kind," he gracefully rejoined. "You aren't thinking entirely of yourself: you placed the needs and aspirations of your teammates alongside yours. It may also prove highly beneficial to the X-Men in general, so how could I do anything less than offer my complete support?"

I slowly nodded my head.

"Now that we've brought this to a satisfactory conclusion, I'm afraid I must ask you to take your leave in favor our interrupted business with our colleague on the west coast. If you all would be so kind."

Just like that he dismissed all five of us. Charles smiled. We turned, opened the door, and marched out in a nearly bewildered fog. Doug closed the doors behind us. Our group walked down the hall, away from the office, before we stopped and formed a huddle.

"Did that just fucking happen?" Marrow asked for all of us as her eyes twitched from face to face.

"I don't know," I quipped, "and I was right there."

"Yes, my friends, Charles is up to something, but we can figure that out later. Right now we got approval to do what we wanted to do. Let's run with it for as long as we can as hard as we can," Stacey suggested.

"He might change his mind," Hector concurred.

"Or ours," Doug added.

"I've already threatened him with Murphy if he tries that on me, so I don't think he will. But to make sure, let's start training as a group so Murphy gets a clear picture of how damned important you are to me. Then if he tries anything on any of you, he'll suffer."

Four sets of eyes brightened at the prospect.


	8. Chapter 8

While Eric and Japheth gladly accepted the invitation to join a new team that looked forward to their inclusion, Ram flat-out rejected it. On Thursday when we got together for dinner, I explained what we intended, and he said he wanted nothing to do with X-Men. The wound to his pride and sense of self the first time he got turned away hardened him against the X-Men. I could not say I really blamed him. Even when I appealed to our real need of his presence, he shook his head and would hear no more. I left well enough alone and did not bug him about it.

"No shit," Marrow mumbled when I returned to my office after telling Charles the news after lunch the following day. She leaned against the chair back, folded her arms along the upper edge, and rested her chin on them. "Just didn't want any part of it?"

"He sees the X-Men as elitist and exclusionary. What Logan said to him when they rejected his application still burns in him. I think Ram might jump him one day and tear his limbs off, adamantium or not. Can Logan re-grow limbs?"

Marrow shrugged and said: "Maybe. I don't know, but it'd be pretty fucking funny to find out and see that little shit beat the hell out of Logan."

I did not take offense to her description of Ram. She painted a compelling mental picture. Yet that scenario did not seem likely to happen.

"The Wolverine is no pushover," I reminded her.

"'Les the persons he's attacking happens to have a boyfriend with a universe killer in his head. How many times have you said Logan can't really get close enough to hurt you... and you figured out ways to fuck him up, so if he goes after your little boy-toy I don't think Murphy is going to like it much."

"You do know Ram is older than me?" I rumbled at her.

"This ain't about age."

"You are such a bitch sometimes."

Marrow smiled in victory at me and asked: "Ink and Maggott joining us for training?"

"Said they were looking forward to it. They each stopped in this morning. Ink and I talked for a while about feeling trapped in this place. I never thought anyone else got treated the same as me," I told her.

"If he was gay you two could be whiny queens together..."

"Jesus, Marrow, enough!" I snapped at her because her insults started cutting closer to the bone. "What the hell is eating you?"

Her face creased into a frown while she said: "My old team is giving me crap. They called me a traitor and loser for joining up with you guys... and it didn't matter to them the goddamn gimp forced me to do it."

I sighed.

"I really wish Chucky would've asked me first before transferring me."

"So you don't want to be part of a team with your friends? People who really, truly care about you?"

"It's not that. It's just I never got any fucking say in it. No one ever asked what I wanted. It was just 'Here, do this and go there' like I was some sort of goddamn slave," she justifiably complained.

"Oh, I know all about that. What do you think the last three and half years of my life has been like? Except they didn't keep you in a dungeon," I responded to her in the same surly tone.

The new overhead fluorescent light gently hummed as we stared at one another across my desk stacked with books, files, and folders acting as a barbican for my new laptop. Behind me the wall of greenery outside my window filtered the sunlight and it gave Marrow an orange cast to her skin. Her eyes searched mine as though she might find an answer for what troubles. Unfortunately, I could only offer my friendship and support.

"You know between you, me, and Murphy we could've burned this place to the ground and got the hell out of here," Marrow half-growled.

"I'm not a murderer and neither are you, but I get what you mean. The fucked up part is they'd rebuild it by the end of the day. The problem isn't the mansion or the students who go here: it's the underlying philosophy and belief Charles and his cohort know better than anyone else," I again stated one of my oldest complaints.

"You and Doug over-think everything. Can't you just go with your gut instincts sometimes?"

"It's not just me alone in this body. Ever since I started to fight for my independence, I sort of see why they're afraid of me and Murphy. I think how they reacted was the worst possible way, but... what would you do if Murphy went after you?"

"Shit," she wheezed and tilted her head back. "What could I do? I suppose I could try to bash your fucking brains in before you got to thinking about it, but it'd have to be a sneak attack and I'd have to make sure you died instantly. Even then I might not be fast enough."

I thought for a second about her terrifyingly cogent answer. It seemed doubtful Marrow ever actively thought about defending herself against me or Murphy, but her quick assessment gave me more reasons to want her on our team. The woman displayed keen fighting instincts.

"Not a lot of people know this, but I programmed Murphy to take out anyone or anything associated with my murder or unnatural death. I told Charles about it to make sure he keeps his buddies from trying to slag me," I informed her in a quiet voice.

Marrow lowered her head to glance at me and did not seem fazed in the slightest by my strategy while she replied: "Stacey is right: you think a lot of steps ahead of everyone. You know that makes you our team leader?"

"I was sort of hoping we could skip all that leader shit and just work as a collective."

Her head twitched back and forth.

"Why?" I prompted.

"It's like what Bobby told me one time... god, Ted, drool much?"

"Sorry," I said as I thought of what I would like to do to the Iceman. "What did he say?"

"A team is like a river, and the leader is like the channel for it. Without the leader the team sort of spreads out all over the place and nothing gets done 'cept for a lot of damage… like a flood. The leader keeps it all flowing in the right direction. I thought he was full of shit the first time I heard him say that, but I sort of thought about it after a while and it made sense," Marrow stated and only used one vulgarity. It meant she took the notion to heart.

"Yeah, but I'm not really a leader, Marrow."

"Look, fucker, you got this goddamn train rolling. You re-purposed us, and got Maggott and Ink involved. You thought up what roles we're going to take and our basic strategy, so don't fucking tell me you're not the leader. If you don't step up we're going to find out if what I said about Murph is true or not!"

The back of my head heated up and started to buzz. Murphy detected a threat from Marrow, and I did not need him to tell me she meant what she said. In truth I never intended to lead the team. Enough rested on my plate with my accounting duties that taking on coordination for the group would eat up more of my day. Somewhere in the recesses of my brain I heard Charles laughing. No wonder he agreed to the idea. It sounded reasonable to assume he knew the primary responsibility for the team would land on my shoulders. Another chain holding me to the mansion got wrapped around my ankle. It looked like another way for him to control me.

"No, no, no, asshole! I know that look," Marrow spat at me. "This is your baby and you ain't pawning it off on anyone else. You can make the rest of us lieutenants, but you're fucking out in front. If you try to weasel out of this, I will beat the shit out of you and leave the team... leave the mansion if I have to!"

Marrow never really made threats. In all my days of knowing her she would carry out what she promised if needs be. Murphy continued to growl, and it forced me to take her with all due seriousness. Her eyes smoldered.

"You're right," I finally spoke to her anger. "I did get this started. I didn't mean to get the rest of you dragged into this, but Charles out-thought me on that one. It's my responsibility and I won't shirk it."

"You better not," she warned.

I nodded.

"What time are we meeting? Three? Like normal?" She asked, and it meant the other topic got closed.

"Yep. It's amazing how many people don't want to train on a Friday afternoon. Actually any time right before dinner. It's not like we ever run out of food," I answered and opined.

"Dude, three-hour old Salisbury steak is nasty shit. The gravy turns into rubber."

With that we launched into another discussion that did not produce tension. Try as she might, Marrow could not distract me from thinking about the fact I got forced into leading our team. At least we would enjoy a bit fun that afternoon. The original five members sent me name suggestions all week. I would put it up for a group vote. Hector thought of one I really liked and would openly support. Thus, when Marrow left my office, completing my work became exceptionally difficult. I struggled on until I needed to change and report to the danger room we requested.

"So you're going to become a mutant account?" Maggott asked as we stood waiting for Doug and Stacey to arrive. His voice rolled in a lyrical fashion as his South African accent dictated.

"Listen, I busted my ass for four years getting my degree and getting ready for the CPA exams. I'm not throwing all that effort away. 'Sides, I sort of like being an account," I replied.

"God, you really are mutant," Ink said through a chuckle. His voice sounded rough as though he smoked a pack of cigarettes a day, but he did not.

"As much as you are," I rejoined.

His eyes went wide. Ink also stared at me with a stunned expression. Hector and Marrow laughed a little at their reaction. I forgot Charles kept my true mutant status under wraps. It felt strange revealing the truth inside a danger room. The smooth floor and walls would soon be generating enemies and obstacles for us to train against. The dark gray metal used to clad almost all the surfaces did not even reflect much of LED lighting used in the vast chamber. Only the overhead control room appeared decently lit. Despite being in the danger room and letting slip important facts, Murphy remained quiescent.

"Not an X-gene in his body," Hector told him. "His power picked him."

"So what is it exactly… that you can do?" Ink inquired.

He looked at me through the reticle tattoo surrounding one eye that formerly sported a Pheonix tattoo. It made Murphy uncomfortable as I glanced at it. The other fine-line tattoos seemed barely noticeable in comparison. Ink kept his head shaved so he could release the powerful sigils. I never really looked at the man before, and it shocked me to see a very handsome man with an exceptional body dressed in one of the older X-Men uniforms staring at me.

"Well, the power in my head manipulates the probability of success or failure of an event. I can't really direct it… nudge it a little, I guess, but it generally watches out for me," and I gave the short version. "This is why we need to train together and do it right. We actually need to become friends. Murphy looks out for my friends."

"So that's who Murphy is," Maggott mumbled.

"So we're not just going to be teammates?" Ink inquired and sounded skeptical.

"Oh, love, we'll be so much more," Stacey purred from behind him.

She walked around the man and dragged her fingers along the edge of his jaw. Eric seemed to wobble a bit, and I realized he turned into jelly. It confirmed his heterosexual condition. Maggott, too, fell under the power of her pheromone cloud and lilting voice. His blue-tinged skin began to shift toward pink as Stacey affected him. The two new members gaped at her skin-tight clothing and enticing figure. Doug and Hector also got caught up in the spell.

"Men are so easy," Marrow grumbled.

"No argument there," I replied. "Maybe you should cut it back a little, Stace."

She walked past me, kissed me on the cheek, and I saw hostile and raw jealousy on four male faces. Murphy twitched, but not by much. After about ten seconds their expression began to change. Marrow made a growling sound.

"Nothing, Teddy?" Stacey asked me when most of her pheromones dissipated.

"As comfortable as a feather pillow down there," I reported.

Both Marrow and Stacey snickered.

"So… um, wow, that was intense," Maggott half-whispered as his head cleared.

"Didn't affect you?" Ink inquired.

I shook my head and said: "Just your average full-on gay man here. I can feel it trying to work on me, but… nothing."

"You should see the piece he's got…" Marrow began to say with an edge in her tone.

"Don't, Marrow. Let's not get them involved in that side of things just yet," I half-begged.

Doug, Hector, and Stacey giggled at my seeming discomfort. It still rankled me that the X-Men treated Ram so poorly he wrote off the organization as a worthwhile endeavor. The reality of the Institute often ran at odds with the purported reputation.

"All right, we've got a small agenda for today," I said, taking charge, and looked from face to face. "First, Ink, Maggot, thanks for agreeing to join the team. As we thought about the composition of the team, your skills and abilities seemed like a great fit. We're really pleased you accepted the invitation."

My friends nodded their heads even though I stretched the truth a bit. However, I felt they knew what I wanted to achieve. Ink and Maggott both smiled, and it appeared genuine. They also seemed to relax a little.

"So, ah, before you accepted the offer, we staged a little contest. We're going to decide the code name for our group. Alright, let's hear the ideas."

"Interlopers," Stacey burbled. "I like how it kind of sounds naughty.

"First Team," Marrow said on her heals.

Ink sparked to that name. I tilted my head. She never told me that name.

"My idea was dumb, so pass," Doug admitted.

"Yeah, it kind of is," Marrow agreed and drew a frown from him.

I looked to Hector. We could all see the muscles working around his mouth. Those of us who really knew him knew what it meant. He did not want to say his suggestion.

"Hector?" I prodded him.

"The Unwanted," he blurted, and it sounded forced.

I grinned. From the moment he mentioned it to me, I liked Hector's name better than anything I concocted. Stacey's eyes lit up. I knew she liked it as well.

"That's… explain that to me," Maggott requested.

"Nobody is going to want us nosing around gathering intel, and… well, nobody here at the Institute really wanted us either. They all kind of wrote us off. Maybe not in Marrow's case 'cause she's suck a good fighter, but… you know what I mean," Hector told us and stared at the floor.

"That's not bad. Double meaning. It works," Ink quietly stated.

"I was thinking the exact same thing," I remarked. "Beats everything I thought of."

Stacey's smirk did not abate and she said: "I can tell you right now Charles and his flunkies would say I was unwanted. Mmm, the irony is so rich."

"Japheth, any ideas?" I asked before everyone lined up behind one selection.

"I'm in the same boat as you. Hector's idea is pretty brilliant," the man responded.

"Same here," Ink said before I could ask.

"Yeah, it's fucking great play on words," Marrow muttered, but then she grinned at Hector.

"Does anyone object to The Unwanted?" I queried.

Silence greeted me.

"Show of hands."

Every hand went up.

"Then from this point forward as a group we are The Unwanted. I'll tell Charles later so he can add it to the register, and well done, Hector," I announced.

My statement got met with a round of agreement.

"Okay, our new members weren't part of the discussion that got us to this point, so let's recap."

Together Doug, Hector, Marrow, Stacey, and I explained how we envisioned the team and the function it would served. We described the various roles each of us would play. I then began to lay out some of the training scenarios I thought would serve us well. Marrow, Maggott, and Stacey quickly took over since they all served on other teams and in real field conditions. Ink added some of his thoughts. Dough, Hector, and I kept conspicuously silent while the other four began to actually craft a training regimen we should follow. I quietly called up a control station from the floor and began to take notes. For over half an hour we debated and discussed how we should proceed. The list I drafted spanned several pages.

"So no other team does preliminary or advanced surveillance?" Ink inquired.

"Not from what I've seen," Doug piped up since he acted as an intelligence agent for many mission. "They usually find out about hot spots and gather intel on the fly. I mean literally on the fly in the Blackbird heading to the destination."

"You really did mean infiltration," Maggott stated and did not asked.

I nodded.

"Stacey came up with a great idea for quickly making latex faces for me. We already talked to Hank, and he's got his people working on a prototype. If we get it working, then I really will be a spy," Hector informed the group.

"I know you get called Wraith, but what other power do you have besides… the… ah…" Ink stumbled around his question.

"See through skin? Only the power to willingly put myself in dangerous situations," Hector flatly stated. "It scares the crap out of me, but I'm already used to wearing appliances every once in a while. We also decided I'd wear an ear bud so people can feed me data and Doug can translate stuff for me."

"You've been thinking this through," Eric Gitter, Ink, quietly said.

"So I would be part of the break in sub-team?" Maggott questioned.

"And get out and use whatever power Eany and Meany can give you to help if things go sour," I told him. "The fact the slugs can eat through anything is a fucking impressive and important ability. Sort of pisses me off no one else figured out how useful it is."

The gleam I saw in Japheth's eyes and the sudden set of his jaw told me I said the right thing. The slugs typically disgusted people, and it clouded judgment as to their actual utility. For the purposes of our team, Maggott would likely be more valuable than myself.

"I only know half of what your tattoos can do, Eric, but they make you the most fluid member of the team. I guess you're sort of like a mega and meta Swiss Army knife."

"Someone who actually gets it," he rejoined and lifted his head a little higher.

"You're a hell of a lot more versatile than Rogue, I'll tell you that!" I added for good measure. "And you've got Stacey to thank for really cluing us into the powers at your disposal."

The man nodded to the one.

"Look, are we just going to stand here while you guys verbally suck each other's dicks or are we going to train?" Marrow jumped in.

Ink and Maggott appeared immediately annoyed.

"Don't take it personal… at least you'll figure out when to take it personal. This is Marrow telling us she's bored. Her bitchiness is code for a lot of stuff," I told them, and then made a grimace at my friend.

"I was nice. I kept my fucking mouth shut most of time," she answered my look.

"True, you did."

She smiled at me, and our two new member looked confused.

"When she says something really nasty and vile at you, it generally means she likes you. If she says something nasty and vile to you about someone else, it means you're golden," Doug further translated the situation.

"And once you see her in action, you'll understand why she's an important part of the team," Hector chipped in.

"And she does have a point," I said and tried to take charge. "Run Ted Infiltration Simulation Three!"

The lights began to flicker and the sound of the machinery kicking into gear hummed through the room. We all trotted to the green circle that indicated both the safety spot and the starting point. Around us hard light projections began to take shape.

"Training objective one: breach security perimeter without triggering alarms," the slightly feminine computer voice said. "Training objective two: gain access to secondary communications building outlined in red. After completion of object two, further objectives will be announced."

I used an old Brotherhood urban compound training exercise as the base for my simulation. Instead of trying to neutralize the compound, we needed to get in, scan the area, make notes, steal some information, and make out exit without triggering alarms or a fight. Stealth would be our watchword. As the last of the simulation came into being, I gathered us into a huddle and explained our objectives and target. A few concerned looks got thrown my way. The warning chime sounded. We all took a stance.

Two hours later we sat amid the simulation, now depopulated, in a miserable state. We repeatedly failed to successfully complete any of the objectives. Only once did we manage to get past the outer fence without getting caught and starting a fight. Three times we slugged our way to the communications building, but by that point the number of reinforcements vastly outweighed us. Try as we might, we could not get past them. Thus, we sat panting and sweating on the floor.

"That was fucking terrible," Maggott droned.

"Can anyone guess our first mistake?" Stacey asked between heavy intakes of air.

"Thinking we could…"

I grabbed Marrow's arm to halt her acerbic comment. She glared at me and jerked her arm away. Behind her I saw Hector and Ink both shake their heads a little.

"The seven of us never worked together before," Doug provided the correct answer.

"Then tomorrow we go back to basics," I stated. "We begin with simple field exercises. We learn about each other's style of operation. We also get our heads around the fact we're not a strike team. We're covert. We need to operate quickly and quietly."

"Is that even possible for us? Only you, Wraith, Cipher don't deal out damage… and maybe not Stacey under the right conditions," Ink expressed a valid point. "Besides, don't we have the professor to do intel work for us?"

"Ever see that helmet Magneto wears?" Hector asked as he leaned his head to the side. Several of us nodded. "More and more of our enemies are wearing them. Lenscherr is sharing the tech. I heard Summers and McCoy can't find a way to get around it. It was designed with Xavier in mind."

Doug snorted, and so did Stacey and Maggott. The rest of us grinned at the unintentional pun. Hector rolled his eyes. We sat on the floor amid the artificial debris of our training session.

"How did you find that out, Hector?" Eric questioned through a smile.

"I'm unimportant, unwanted, so people act like I don't exist when I'm around. I overhear all sorts of conversations. Scott and Hank sat right next to me during lunch about two years ago and talked about it. I knew it was a confidential conversation, but they acted like it didn't matter if I heard them, so I listened," he explained, and a simmering rancor got exposed.

"You know, when you get around to making faces, maybe you should go for the ordinary. Make one that won't stand out… one that our targets would just ignore," Maggott opined.

"Hiding in plain sight. Good strategy," Stacey concurred.

"Yeah, it is. If Hector can make a face that's a composite of those he's going to be around, everyone will sort of recognize him, but then won't be able to fully describe him once he leaves. Sort of a super Joe Average," Doug thought out loud.

"Holy fuck do you guys over-think shit," Marrow said, but those of us who knew how to listen to her heard the compliment.

"Yeah, we do," Doug rejoined and nudged her foot with his.

I saw Ink and Maggott glance at each other. When I caught their eye, I nodded my head a little. I turned my attention to the whole group.

"Okay, Hector and Stacey talk to Hank about what we just discussed about Hector's faces the first chance you get. Tomorrow we do basic drills. What time do you want to meet? But don't make it for the evening. Ram and I are going out," I said to them.

"Ram?" Maggott asked in a perplexed manner.

"His boyfriend," Stacey smoothly stated. "One of the local mutants he met in a bar a couple of weeks ago."

"He's a super-strong midget with a giant dick… or at least it probably looks like that," Marrow jumped at the chance to needle me.

"Asshole," I rumbled at her.

"Hang on. Does he go by the name Hammerfist?" Ink sat up straight and asked.

"Ah, yeah, why?" I answered, confused as to whether I revealed Ram's mutant name.

Murphy started to buzz, and I ran my hand over my neck.

"Relax, Ted," Doug said to me.

"He's part of the Subhumans, Ted, an underground mutant criminal organization. We think he was involved in a bank robbery four years ago. The team I worked with back then tangled with that group two or three times. I remember seeing a midget with them who was just beating the hell out of everyone," Ink recalled in a slow, thoughtful manner.

"He works construction," I mumbled as I stared agog at the tattooed man.

"Maybe now, but I'm ninety-nine percent certain he ran with them at least back then."

I turned and looked at Stacey as panic raced through my system. I kept hearing Ram tell me he could punch his way through steel doors, and it only added to the disorientation I felt. Stacey eyed me.

"Please?" I begged with one word.

"Not a scratch, Ted," she said with a tremendous amount of compassion in her voice.

Ten minutes later I raced out of the mansion parking lot in the bright yellow, enormous, motorized monstrosity named Paolo. Less than fifteen minutes later I pulled into the driveway of the house Ram occupied with his friends, and I wondered if they got connected by more than friendship. I saw the banged up Miata parked further ahead. My feet pounded up the stone steps, and then my fist pounded on the door.

"What the fuck, dude?" A young woman who looked like she might not even be twenty yelled when she pulled open the door. Her jet-black hair got pulled neatly into a ponytail and only made her look younger.

"Casey, where's Ram?" I half-shouted at her.

The porch light next to my head flickered. Murphy never diminished since leaving the Institute, and now he thrummed in the back of my brain. Casey eyed me for a second.

"Ram!" She yelled over her shoulder. "Ted's here!"

Casey stood to the side and let me enter. After I did, she closed the door behind me. The light bulb in the small foyer connected to the living room popped out of service. The young woman glanced up at it. Seconds later Ram came trotting down the stairs dressed in shorts and a tee-shirt. He looked at me standing in the dimly lit area. I saw him register my current stated.

"Ted?" He cautiously asked when he got within three feet of me.

"What do you know about The Subhumans?" I shot out my question without any preamble.

Casey halted mid-step on her way to the dining area. She turned and looked at me. Ram held up a hand. I knew it to be a signal.

"It's not what y'all think," he said to me.

"Well, right now I don't know what the fuck to think and Murphy is howling in my brain," I said and warned him.

A worried expression washed over Ram's features.

"Tell me the truth, Ram. Tell me the whole truth. If you do and I don't like what I hear, then I just walk out and we're done. If you lie to me…"

I left the threat unfinished.

"Yeah, I ran with 'em for 'bout a year or so when I first got here and couldn't get into the X-Men," he stated in a flat, slightly trembling voice. "I was fuckin' angry when I got rejected, see, so I helped 'em on a couple of jobs, but… I didn't want to be that. So I quit. Everyone who lives here used t'be in one gang or another. We all live together to help protect each other."

I gazed at him trying to decide if he told me the truth.

"Ted, I used to be in Aisa Coven," Casey said from her spot twenty feet away. "We were a bunch of psi women who had it with being treated like shit by mutant men. When they started killing people, I got out. I only survived because of this house."

Her confession, one she did not need to make, impacted me. She intently watched me. I saw a strange light coruscate through her eyes. Murphy's buzzing picked up tempo.

"We did things when we were young and stupid and angry, Ted. You know about anger…"

"Yeah, but I never broke the law," I countered.

"No, y'all just go and scare the shit out of the X-Men, Murphy 'n you," Ram neatly threw the words in my face. "I was going to tell y'all, but… I could never find a way. Then when ya go and ask if me I wanted to join all y'all's team, I thought maybe you knew."

"Ink told me today. He remembered you from a bank heist. Said you kicked the crap out of a bunch of them."

He nodded. I gave him a point for not denying it.

"Why?" I begged with the question and leaned back against the door.

"Why'd y'all figure out a way to take down everyone who lives over there? Why is that okay… knowing it could really happen?" Ram challenged me and stepped closer. When I did not respond, he continued: "It was dumb, Ted, all that shit I did for that year. I returned most of the money we boosted and all the other loot. I was sorry… I'm still sorry. Maybe the anger I felt, the anger I still feel, isn't a good excuse, but it's why I did it."

"Why'd you hook up with me when you knew I'm connected to the X-Men? You had to know I'd find out sooner or later? It doesn't make any fucking sense?"

"'Cause I like you… think y'all are cute. And ya treated me with respect. We talked and I never felt I was being judged. I don't feel small when I'm with y'all, and you don't make me feel small none," Ram said with a tremendous amount of entreaty in his voice.

I scrubbed my face with my left hand. I desperately wanted to believe Ram. He sounded sincere. Casey backed him up to some extent with her honesty. Yet I could not figure out what to trust. I knew part of me thought with my groin and an overwhelming desire to be wanted and loved. When I opened my eyes and looked at him, I saw a man who appeared to be on the verge of tears.

"Don't judge me by what I was," he begged. "Ask around. Talk to Wilkes, my foreman, and he'll tell ya how hard I've worked for them. I'm not that dumb fucking kid who got all up an' mad at the world 'cause a bunch of fucked up mutants rejected me."

From the corner of my eye I saw Casey approach, and she looked angry. Murphy hummed in warning. I did not know her power, but he sensed it. I watched her approach.

"I've heard you complain about the X-Men, Ted," she snapped at me. "If you don't believe Ram's changed, then that means you don't think anyone can change. It makes you just as bad as the people who live at that mansion. I thought you were different 'cause you know what it's like to be treated like garbage by that group you serve… and I really don't get why you stay with them. Yeah, Ram made mistakes. I made mistakes, but at least we fucking learned from them. Did you?"

It felt like a slap.

"I don't know what your power is. All I know is it scares the hell out of him… and nothing else I know of scares Ram, Ted. Maybe now you can imagine what it's like to have feelings for someone who scares you. And I got to ask you this: has Ram ever done anything wrong with you… to you, or asked you to do anything illegal?" Casey half-sneered at me and held her ground.

The young woman made a lot of sense in that moment. Casey argued Ram's case better than he did. My head began to twitch back and forth as I answered her questions in my mind.

"Then what's the fucking problem?" The manner in which she delivered her final question sounded a lot like Marrow, and sometimes Marrow actually suggested we carry out illegal acts.

"Ted, please," Ram quietly said.

I looked at him and tried to accommodate the notion I needed to see him in a different light. Stacey told us the night we first went to The DNA all manner of mutants on both sides of the law went there to relax. An informal and unspoken truce existed. As I recalled that, it reminded me of the fact I met Ram, who sat by himself, as I got exiled from all the other groups. In that place he probably lacked a single friend since his old cronies would despise him and anyone on the side of the X-Men would hold him in contempt. Despite that, he still went and faced his detractors. In a flash I realized he forced himself to pay a penance by going to that bar.

"Why do you go to The DNA?" I asked and wanted to confirm my thinking.

"'Cause as least there I'm hated for some other reason than bein' a little person," Ram stated without hesitation. "Y'all were the first person to willingly talk to me in almost two years. Would ya keep on talking to me if I told you what I done did in the past?"

"I…" and then I stopped. His faced sagged. However, I needed to finish with my initial response. "Yeah, probably. I would've been interested to find out why you did what you did."

"Would y'all still have come back here with me to spend the night?"

Murphy went silent. I gazed at Ram. I continued to find him desirable and exotic even knowing what I knew. Ram watched me. He again seemed worried. The answer to his question rolled around in my head and never changed. I gradually sank to the floor and sat before him. I looked into his unique face.

"Before I answer that, I want you to tell me everything you did for that year after the X-Men rejected you. Don't leave anything out," I requested and tried to not sound demanding.

"Y'all are gonna get hit by the door if'n ya sits there. Let's got talk in the living room," he suggested.

I noted Ram did not say his bedroom as I stood up and followed him to the living room. We both sat on the beat up couch. Ram sat cross-legged and faced me. Without needing me to ask, he began relaying the story of leaving Tennessee and coming to New York and making his way to Westchester. I held my jaw in place and listened. Out of kindness, Casey brought us each a beer and then headed elsewhere. As the other housemates arrived at various times, they also let us be. It seemed quite obvious Ram and I engaged in a serious conversation.

As he spoke, I heard anew Ram's anger at being turned away by the X-Men. They never gave him a good reason: Charles or someone simply said he did not make the cut. It fueled his anger because it reminded him of the life he left in Bolivar, Tennessee, where he first got ridiculed for being a little person, his Thai heritage, and then when he got outed in his junior year of high school. Only his fists and strength kept him from constant physical assault. Ram never finished high school and came to New York in the spring of his senior year. It reminded me again of the relatively easy life I lead in San Diego.

"I think y'all can hear I was pretty damn angry 'fore I got here, and them telling me I was no good just sort of sent me over the bank. I was looking for a place to be, Ted. Some place I could be who I am… and they told me no. After that I didn't give a rat's ass, so being criminal seemed just as good a being X-Men. I know I was wrong, but there it is," Ram completed his tale.

"Why'd you stop working with them?" I asked.

"Ever been poor?" He countered.

I shook my head.

"Spent most of my life poor. I mean dirt poor. Daddy had it hard for gettin' hisself a Thai wife and bringin' up mixed kids. Then I come along and, sure as shit, it didn't make it any better. Folks wouldn't hire him even if he was good mechanic. Then they found out I'm gay… it just kept gettin' worse and worse. So I came here."

"That doesn't explain why you left The Subhumans."

"Just didn't feel right takin' other folks' money… making 'em poor. I mean I know stealing is wrong, but I kept thinkin' 'bout them not havin' 'nough money for food or rent or whatever else it is they need to pay for. That's why I quit and gave back as much as I could find," he stated as he stared down at his feet with a frown on his face.

"You know that money is insured?" I told him.

"Don't matter none. Guess it's the principle of thing. Y'all go to bed hungry one too many times, and y'all ain't ever gonna wish that on nobody. Can't sleep when you're hungry and get weird dreams when ya can. No, sir, won't wish hunger on no one. Hunger'll make y'all do some stupid shit."

In that moment I knew he hungered for something else when he arrived in New York and never found fulfillment. However, somewhere along the line Ram internalized a sense of ethics and, ultimately, morality. Shame infused his words. I reached over and took hold of his left hand while he toyed with loose thread on the cushion.

"Yeah," I said to him when he looked at me, "I'd've come home with you."


	9. Chapter 9

Ram still refused to join our X-Men team. As I did before, I did not press him on the point. By the time we finished talking and decided to move behind closed doors, I felt more comfortable with him than ever before. Unless he actually turned out to be a mass murderer like Logan, the worst details now lay behind us. I accepted he changed as a person. He rewarded my acceptance, and I rewarded his reward.

Stacey stayed in my room overnight at the mansion.

"So he gave all that up?" Ink asked for a third time when we gathered for our training.

"The answer didn't change from the first two times, Eric. Do I believe him? Yes. Why? He never asked to be forgiven and owns all of what he did. Ram freely acknowledges what he did is wrong and what he learned from it. His roommates, and each one of them are trying to turn a corner in their life, attest to his new outlook. I think he's kind of the de facto leader there," I answered and ruminated.

"What does Murphy think"?" Marrow inquired and did little to disguise her giggle.

"Slept like a baby all night."

"Bet you didn't."

The team started laughing at her comment. Stacey laughed the most. Although upset I kept her precious vehicle overnight, she listened to story and gave me marginal forgiveness. The team ate lunch together and we decided on the training protocol for the afternoon. As promised, we returned to basics. We needed to learn to work together as a team, and that meant going back to square one. In the danger room, we tied up the last of our conversation that mostly dealt with what I discovered about Ram.

"And he still doesn't want to join us," I capped the topic.

"Why?" Doug queried.

"I think it has more to do with his first rejection and how he reacted to it. It's not us… at least not those of us in this room," I said and then looked at Ink. "He remembered you, Eric."

Eric grinned in a satisfied fashion.

"All right, we're going seven-on… first all against one and then two, three and so on until it's three to one in their favor," I announced and my colleagues came to attention. "Get ready!"

I went to the control panel and activated the simulation.

For the next two hours we learned about ourselves as a team. We did fine all the way to against even numbers with parallel abilities. After that I paused the simulation because I knew the parameters would change.

"We getting the job done, but we're not acting in concert," I told the group. "It's seven individual styles managing to occupy the same space at the same time, and we're lucky we're not getting in each others way. We need to coordinate. We need to talk to each other during these drills. Oh, and after this point I'm letting the simulation slap me around a little to see if Murphy gets involved."

"Really?" Stacey blurted and sounded surprised.

"Remember, folks: the more you try to protect Ted, the faster Murph is going to start factoring you into the protective equation," Doug reminded the entire team.

"But don't make it your primary task," I added for good measure. "Ready?"

I got a round agreement.

The simulation began, and this time with eight opponents. By the time we got to ten-on-seven it became glaringly obvious we did not act in unison. Thus, I took it upon myself to start calling out tactics. Marrow picked up on it and, as probably the best trained among us, took over as the fight coordinator. I did start taking hits. While I did not suffer any real damage, I did not enjoy the sensation of getting beaten up. After a second incident, Murphy started to respond. Doug, Hector, and I, the three without any supplemental powers, began working together. We survived the ten-on-seven assault.

"Eleven-on-seven coming up!" I shouted just before the next wave.

I did not warn the team about the inclusion of ninja-like combatants. It entirely changed the game for us. More of the enemy got through. I started taking more punches. Marrow and Maggott banded together to protect my left flank. Stacey, a whirling dervish of long legs and weighted batons, covered my back. Doug and Hector stayed on my three o'clock position. Ink ranged in front of us attacking where he could. I gained a whole new respect for his tattoo powers. The quasi-ninjas began to effectively counter our tactics due to the computer learning heuristic. Hits started landing on me with greater frequency, and then on all of us. In the midst of a forward push by four assailants, Murphy went into action.

Then entire simulation shut down as sparks shot out of the ceiling and left us standing in the dark.

"How the fuck did Murph know where this is coming from?" Marrow hollered into the inky black, silent training chamber.

"Because I know," I told her.

"What did he do?" Maggott queried.

"I think he shorted out the hard-light control module and power relay," I speculated.

"At least he knew where to strike," Doug commented.

"Hold on second. Emergency lighting coming up," Stacey's voice rolled into our ears.

Three seconds later the emergency lights came one. Twelve in-set LED lights barely provided enough illumination, but we could find our way to the access panel and open the door. The seven of us started walking toward her. She opened the access panel and pulled down on one of the levers. The main doors grunted and parted a small ways. We needed to force them open against the dead servos. Light from the hallway spilled in. Our group gathered at the entrance.

"And what did we learn?" I prompted the team.

"That Murphy is fucking party pooper," Marrow threw out.

"That we can't let you program the simulations anymore," Hector chimed in. "If you know, then Murphy knows."

"We did learn something," Ink said and moved around to face us. We waited for his explanation. "At the end, right before Ted's power shut down the place, we actually started working as a team. We sort of assumed positions, and it proved kind of effective."

"Only kind of still gets us killed, Eric," Stacey said in her purring voice.

"True, but we assumed a formation without thinking about it or someone calling it out. It isn't huge progress, but it's still progress."

We muttered in accord with his assessment.

"Okay, I got a homework assignment for us for Tuesday afternoon," I said.

"Why not Monday?" Maggott asked.

"He's got a test on Tuesday," Hector and Marrow said together.

"And one on Thursday," I chipped in. "If I pass both, then no more test for a while."

"And you'll be a CPA," Doug stated.

"Pretty close. Just some minor paperwork after that and a review of my character."

"What's the homework?" Doug asked.

"Write down which hand you think each of is, meaning right or left, and then design three formations we can use for either defense or offense… and even just general sneaking around. Try to keep our various talents in mind when you do," I instructed them.

"Sweetie, you're being clever again, aren't you?" Stacey trilled at me.

I saw four male faces start to melt.

"And after next week, we start a real and regular training schedule," I added, except I felt certain only two people heard me.

Several heads dumbly nodded.

"Today was good. Have a fun tomorrow. Relax, do some reading, take out Hank, and basically…"

"Wait, what did you say?" Maggott snapped out the temporary stupor induced by Stacey. "Did you say take out Hank?"

"At least one of you was paying attention… kind of," I replied and chuckled. "How about dinner at 5:30 on Monday just to say hi and check in with each other?"

Maggott, Marrow, and Stacey agreed. Doug, Hector, and Ink bobbed their heads, but I could tell what I said did not register. Instead of making an issue of it, I slipped my arms through one each of Marrow and Stacey and began to walk into the hall. Behind us Maggott tried to get the other three gentlemen to snap out of it. Although I did not say it aloud, I knew I would be doomed if I ever met Stacey's male counterpart if one existed. In the meanwhile, I enjoyed escorting my two friends down the hall toward the stairwell.

On Sunday I used my office to study since it got better WiFi reception than my room. Some of the mutants in the house either caused interference or suffered susceptibility to electronic signals. Dampeners got installed on the living quarter floors to alleviate some of their discomfort. It made getting a decent signal difficult at times. Thus, when my office got completed, I used it as a den of sorts. However, my colleagues and friends became aware of this.

A rushed but soft knock sounded at my door.

"It's open," I replied as I placed a bookmark in my study guide.

Maggott's head eased in through the opening between the door and jamb. He smiled at me. Then he asked: "Got a minute?"

"Sure," I said and tried to sound accommodating.

Maggott walked in and sat in the chair on the other side of my desk. He looked around the office. Aside from two bookcases and a row of filing cabinets, beige walls greeted his eyes where he glanced. After a few moments he looked at me.

"It's an office for an accountant, so it's supposed to be boring," I answered what I assumed to be his unasked question.

"Maybe a picture or something? A plant?" He suggested in his South African-accented tenor.

I shrugged.

"I know you are to be studying, but I wanted to ask a different question."

"Sure," I agreed.

"Ah, what hand are you?"

My face involuntarily broke into a smile. Maggott became the first to directly inquire. He smirked as well.

"Right. You?" I returned the question.

"I, too, am right handed."

He then pulled a piece of paper out one pocket, a pen from another, and he scribbled down the information. Japheth always seemed to wear some sort of large, loose fitting jacket. It seemed certain he did so because the slugs would emerge from his stomach area and wreck shirts. I would wager he rarely wore shirts.

"Ted, I watched you fight, but I did not see the Murphy doing anything. Why is this?"

"Murphy is a cosmic, universal mathematical construct that lives in my brain and regulates the laws of probability across the universe. His work is pretty much invisible," I answered and provided a bit more than he requested because I wanted him, and Ink for that matter, to begin to garner some notion of the focus.

"And he tells you this?" Japheth queried.

"Nope. Murphy isn't alive in any real sense. We only call it Murphy as kind of a short hand. Technically it is the Focus of Probability."

From that point it took a half an hour to explain the basics of what I believed Murphy to be based on what Brightstorm, Charles, and Hank told me. Maggott listened with a singular intensity I appreciated. He seemed to devour the details and only asked a single question regarding the source of Murphy.

"So when you, um, die, this Murphy will go to a new host?" The South African asked what seemed like a simple question, but one few ever directly posed.

"Yep. It's not parasitical if that's what your thinking. Somewhere in the universe it will just find a new person… or entity or something living and lodge itself there until that one expires. Then it's onto the next," I told him.

He sat back in the chair and folded his hands in his lap. He remained quiet and stared at something on my desk. Japheth, I realized, tended to think in a visible manner.

"Do you know why it selected you?"

I shook my head and said: "No, not really. We think it just came down to random chance. It could've been anyone in the universe. It happened to be me."

"Hmm, you tell me you think it is not alive, so that would mean it cannot think. But it protects you and learns who helps you," he speculated.

"Mmm, you can't really look at it like that. Murphy doesn't think. It's just one set of probability variables after another that changes as new factors develop and old ones fall away. Everything around me… meaning the whole universe, is part of the probability factors. I sometimes think proximity plays a role. Actually, I'm sort of convinced it does."

"Is it true you are not in control of it?"

"My thoughts and feelings seem to affect it because I am so close to it. I think it tries to keep the host – me – alive because otherwise it would create, I guess, a messier mathematical equation. Does that make sense?" I stated and asked.

Japheth stared at me for a few seconds.

"No, it does not. There are many parts of this I do not understand, and it sounds like you do not understand, either. Yet you sound confident about this Murphy that it will protect us as well. How can you be certain?" Once more Maggott zeroed in on an important issue.

"I think it works like this," I replied and leaned forward. "Keeping the host alive reduces the amount of variables it would need to contend with if it was just floating around out there somewhere in space. Hank drilled this into my head, so if it sounds like he's talking, it's because I can still hear him in my head."

My new colleague grinned.

"It's all about odds and probability. It adjusts the odds around me so it doesn't have to go find a new host. If that means using other people nearby to help protect it, then it shifts the odds to make it more favorable. If keeping you alive increases the odds I'll stay alive, well… why shouldn't it do that? After a while if you're around me enough, you become part of the local equation."

"And this you believe?"

"It's not really a question of what I believe. It's math, and math doesn't need belief to operate. I could believe Murphy is bright green, but it wouldn't affect how the laws of probability work. They just keep going," I rejoined.

"There is much to consider here. Thank you, Ted, for being honest with me. There are many here who are afraid of your power because they know you do not control it. We remember others who did not have good control," Japheth stated as he slowly stood. "And thank you for taking me into your team. I'm glad you believe there is value in Eany and Meany."

"I don't just believe it, Japheth: I know it. It came down to understanding how they, you, can be utilized," I responded with a nod. "Once we figure out our group style, I think people are going think twice about what they consider… Unwanted."

He smiled at the use of our group and said: "I will leave you alone now so you can study. If we do not talk again until Monday, then I am hoping your days are pleasant."

"Thanks, and the same goes for you."

My colleague turned to leave.

"Japheth?" I said as an afterthought took hold. He did a half-turn. "You can always talk to me no matter where I am or what I'm doing. We're a team now. We need to depend on each other."

"That is… very kind of you, Ted. I am looking forward to spending more time with you and the others."

I smiled. Japheth smiled. Then without saying anything further, he left my office and quietly closed the door. I enjoyed the fact he felt free enough to approach me, and smirked at the idea he used a question about my handedness to ease into a greater conversation. It showed tact; something both Marrow and I lacked at times. I bent my head down and returned to my reading.

Twenty minutes later another knocked echoed through my office. Before I give permission to enter, Eric stuck his head in and then the rest of his body followed. As usual, he wore one of the older type of X-Men uniforms. It made him very appealing to my eyes.

"Got a second?" He asked and slid into the chair Maggott used not long before.

"For my team, always," I said and thought of what I told Japheth.

"It won't take long 'cause I know you've got studying to to do."

"I've got tomorrow, too, but if I don't know this material by now, I won't be able to learn in two days. These exams are rough."

"Pretty smart of you to get a degree even though you live here," Eric said. "This isn't anything too important, but, ah, what hand are you?"

I started to laugh. I could not help myself. Eric watched me with an expression of uncertainty.

"Okay, did you and Japheth conspire on this? He was here less than half an hour ago asking the same question… and a lot of others," I told him.

Eric's cheeks turned a little rosy.

"Seriously, Eric, you can talk to me whenever you want. We're a team. We wanted you and Japheth in this group. What you can do is… is staggering."

His blush deepened.

"I'm not just blowing smoke up your ass. I honestly can't believe one of the elite teams didn't grab you from the get-go," I sincerely stated.

"I'm not used to hearing that. A lot of the other mutants think I'm a cheat 'cause I get my powers from the tattoos and Leon."

"And that's bullshit, too. I get my power from having a universal force stuck in my head. I may not have the x-gene, but I'm just as mutated at the rest. Same goes for you. Besides, didn't you get tattoos from someone other than Leon… and don't they work?"

"Man, you wouldn't believe how many people don't understand any of that," Eric said and seemed to sigh at the same time. He slunk down in the chair a bit more. "How, um, do you know all this about me?"

"When I'm not doing actual accounting work, I read every report I can get my hands on. Once I figured out I was being held prisoner here…"

"You're a prisoner in the Institute?" He warily interjected.

"Just as much as you are. What we have in common is Charles wants to keep an eye on us. I don't know how many people know that about you, but I figured it out from the reports."

Eric appeared nervous.

"Look, I'm not trying to blackmail you or coerce you into something. I'm simply stating I understand what you've gone through here. They try to make it look all cordial and friendly, but it isn't… not for some of us," I related in as bland a manner as I could.

He continued to eye me, and that made Murphy nervous.

"Um, Eric, are you, ah, aiming that eye at me? 'Cause Murph is getting a little jumpy."

"What? No. No! I'm not," he blurted. "If I was you'd see a little shimmer around it as the power gets activated. I'm not used to hearing someone casually talk about why I'm here."

I sat up straighter in my chair and faced him while thinking Murphy should calm down. He died down to a very gentle buzz. It took me a second to realize my knowledge about Eric made the man nervous. Repeatedly over the past several weeks I got real examples of knowledge, information, as a form of power. I intended to use that as much as I could inside the mansion. I wanted our team to specialize in the acquisition of such a very valuable commodity.

"That's kind of important to know," I said on top of what I thought. "Thanks for trusting me with it."

"You'd have figured it out after a while. I'm willing to bet you pay a lot more attention to stuff than anyone realizes. Christ, I heard you figured out a way to get under Quire's skin, and that's no easy feat," he said with an infectious grin.

"I take it your not a fan of Quentin?"

"He's good at what he does, but he also knows it. Dealing with him is like working with a bratty six-year old who doesn't realize the world doesn't revolve around him."

In that moment I liked Eric ten times more than I did before he sat down, and I already liked him from the start.

"Word is you've got plans on how to take down all the X-Men if they try to subdue you," he commented with a loaded statement.

I nodded and replied: "The word is not wrong."

Eric gazed at me with his shaved head shining under the LED lights glowing in my office. His suit rippled, and all I could think about centered on how he looked like a specialized leather daddy. I shoved those thoughts violently to the side.

"Why'd you do it?" Eric quietly inquired.

"Because I don't have any other power than Murphy. I can fight, but only like a normal person... 'cause except for Murph, I am normal. This power holed up in me scares Charles and the senior members for a lot of reasons, so I decided I'd give them one more. The reason why you're sitting in this office... why this office even exists is because I started to stand my ground," I explained.

"Did the new team go with it?"

I nodded.

Eric squinted.

"What?" I asked him because I could see the question.

"You've never lead a group before, have you?" He rejoined.

I thought for a moment about what I should tell him. It did not take long, perhaps two seconds, to come to the conclusion Eric deserved the full truth, much as I did with Japheth. I held his gaze as I spoke.

"Nope. Never really been on a team. Marrow said she'd kick my ass if I didn't rise to the occasion, and she said it seriously enough it made Murphy start buzzing in my head. So here I am doling out homework assignments. Why do you ask? You want the job?"

"That eager to push it off on someone?"

I shrugged. He chuckled. Then Eric shook his head.

"No thanks, Ted. You do know they're going to start calling you into team leader meetings?" He informed me.

"Not for six months at least. Charles said we've got 'til then to prove ourselves and the concept," I responded.

He eyed me again, except this time Murphy did not react. Eric simply scrutinized me while he thought. I waited to hear what he would say.

"That's enough time to see if we can do this. Personally, I think we can. You people sound really smart, like you're thinking your way through it."

"That maybe our biggest strength. Can't out-fight 'em 'cause of Hector, Doug, and me, so might as well out-smart 'em. If we do this right, Murphy will be our ace-in-the-hole if things go seriously wrong... in case you're wondering."

"After that little show where he brought down the danger room, I'm not doubting it. But is he going to know the difference between friend and foe?" Eric wisely questioned.

"Like I told you before: if we work and fight side-by-side long enough, Murphy will add you to the net benefit column. He'll shift the odds in your favor because it helps protect me and him in the end... not that he's even remotely thinking in those terms... or at all," I rambled out what quickly became my standard answer.

"How do you know it's not alive or conscious?" My colleague suddenly shifted topics.

I scratched my head as I said: "I think Murphy's been in my head since birth or shortly after that. In all that time I never once heard a word or even a thought from it. The most I get is tingling in my neck, and the back of my head heats up as he starts changing the odds. Don't forget that Murphy is working out the probability for events across the entire universe."

Eric's eyes went wide. Although I stated that fact before, the private setting of our conversation made him more receptive. I could see the enormity of what resided within me begin to take shape in his mind. I recalled how impossible it all seemed when I first began to understand the extraordinary nature of what happened to me. The awe I felt rapidly faded as I learned I could not control it to any real extent. However, I did enjoy witnessing what Murphy did when triggered.

"Yeah, it's going to take a while for me to get my mental arms around that," Eric half-mumbled, and then his visage became even more stern. "Ted, there's something I have to say, but no easy way to say it."

"Then just say it," I flatly encouraged.

"I just want you to know I'm not gay."

"I knew that."

"Yeah, well, just wanted it to be clear," he said in a rush.

"What? 'Fraid I'm going to put some moves on you?" I half-teased, but scaled it back when I saw his reaction. "Eric, relax."

He sighed in seeming frustration and said: "I don't want to make a big deal about it, but I've had guys... X-Men hit on me. Don't know why. Do I throw off some sort of gay vibe or something?"

"I think it's because you wear the old-school yellow and black leather suit."

"Really?" He grunted and looked down at himself.

"Look, none of the gay X-Men will give me a second loo... Shit!" I exclaimed.

"What?" My colleague said in confusion.

"Of course. The whole leather thing. I should've thought of that years ago. Gay X-Men would be into that."

"And you're not?"

"Fuck no! Listen, I grew up in San Diego and never understood that whole underground leather fetish thing, but it sort of makes sense in this case," I unequivocally stated. "You might want to ditch that for regular clothes when we're not on missions."

"But it's comfortable," Eric bemoaned his obvious preference.

"Okay, but don't bitch when some guy invites you to spend a weekend in a sling."

"Do I even want to know what that means?"

"Um... not really... unless you're into S&M."

"Pass!"

Three seconds later we started laughing. I felt a tension in the air ease. I found Eric's cluelessness endearing regarding his mode of dress and the effect it caused in others. I recalled what I thought just the day before when I first saw him in the danger room. Pieces of other data began to click together in my mind like some arcane and vast puzzle. We slowly calmed.

"Besides, did you forget I kind of have a boyfriend you think is a criminal?" I rhetorically asked.

"He is... was a criminal. I trust you know what you're getting into with him?" Eric replied.

I nodded. Eric shifted into a more comfortable position. I appreciated how he started to feel at ease with me. It would become vital in the future as the team integrated. The fact he felt free to address what could be thorny issues seemed to bode well.

"You like him?"

"A lot," I answered without a single pause. "I mean a lot a lot. We just sort of work. It doesn't take any effort to be with Ram. I know we're just starting out, so maybe it's the newness of it all."

"Lucky you. The last relationship I was in turned into an hourly rage-fest for over two months before we called it off. We came so close to getting married, and, god, am I glad we didn't. That would've been a fucking nightmare," Eric told me and groaned the words at the end in a miserable fashion.

"I'll say I'm lucky. This is the first boyfriend I've had since moving here almost four years ago."

"You haven't had any in four..."

"Ah, yes, but not consistently," I interjected. "Murph doesn't like the gay bar scene at all. Remember that place over on Lake Street that burned down a couple of years ago?"

"You did that?" Eric inquired in seeming disbelief.

"Kind of. He shorted some outlets – one of his favorite targets – and the bad wiring in the place couldn't take it. No one got hurt, but they never rebuilt after the fire inspector cited the owners for around thirty violations that they thought lead to the fire."

"What set him off?"

"Just guys talking shit to me. Apparently they thought I was trying to pull a straight act, and a couple of drag queens started in on me, too. After about half an hour, Murph went after the wiring. Stacey was with me when it happened. She thought they deserved it," I related with what I considered the proper amount of contrition and embarrassment.

"He goes after electrical pieces a lot, doesn't he?" Eric commented.

"I think it's easiest to manipulate since it's just pushing around electrons. C'mon, think about it. If you had to choose between moving an atom or a freight train, which would you choose?"

Eric waggled his head back and forth for a several moments.

"But to be honest, I really don't have one real clue as to how or why it does what it does. I figured out long ago there is no why except it's all part of a universal mathematical equation. It's not a thought process... at least not one any of us can understand."

"If you say so, but it still sounds kind of alive," he challenged.

"Eh-h-h-h… how? It's cosmic computational physics, Eric. It's no more alive than gravity is alive."

The man did not look convinced.

"Putting that argument aside, are you comfortable enough with the team to run with this experiment?" I asked and decided to let the other topic go for the time being.

"Like you said: it'll take time for us to really get to know one another. But I can say it feels like we're getting a good start. I like the way you're willing to let the competent people take the lead," Eric stated, and then appeared to panic a bit. "Not that you're incompetent, it's just…"

I chuckled and interrupted his apology by saying: "I get what you mean. Look, if you had to pick between Marrow and me to audit your books, who would you choose?"

He smirked.

"I don't feel any shame in admitting I'm ignorant about a lot of aspects when it comes to training. Marrow's done serious time out in the field, real time, and I'd be an idiot not to turn to her. Same goes with you and Japheth. You've got way more experience that me, so don't act surprised if I call on you to teach us something. I'm not going to waste resources 'cause we don't have enough time to squabble over it."

"Well, that puts you in rare company, Ted. Can't tell you how many times I worked with a group lead by a wanna-be dictator. I've been on missions that failed 'cause the lead wouldn't take advice," Eric said and sounded troubled by his last statement. Then he looked me dead in the eye. "Hope you keep this attitude. The second you start to think you've got all the answers and begin buying your own bullshit, we're doomed."

"If you catch me acting like that, tell me that line about buying my own bullshit. Between Stacey, Doug, and Marrow, they won't let me get away with that. We've been friends for too long."

"And Hector?"

"Oh, when he goes silent, Eric, I know I've crossed a line. He's got a black belt in passive-aggressive techniques," I said, and he chuckled along with me. "Plus Hector's taking on the most dangerous role in regard to infiltration, so I need to pay attention to what he says and does. I think we all will."

"I got to admit this is a pretty ballsy idea you've worked up. I know other teams kind of run recon, but this is something different. You're talking about getting into places and going after deep intel. We don't have any good shape-shifters in the X-Men, not like Mystique, and using him to wear different faces to get inside puts us in a whole other game. This isn't a smash and grab team," Eric beautifully summarized my overall plan.

"No, it's not, and that's why you and Japheth need to integrated with us as fast as you can. Yesterday was a good start when you circled around me and Doug. That's the type of stuff that Murphy will begin to add to his calculations. If you folks can take out threats before he needs to, even better."

Eric showed every sign of paying close attention. His head slowly went up and down as I spoke. As with Maggott in the previous conversation, it displayed a solid interest and willingness to work with us. Each of them wanted a chance to truly prove themselves, and they could only do that with a group founded on honesty and trust. The sentiment would go both ways, I hoped, to unite us. I glanced down at my books as I thought.

"Shit, Ted, I'm sorry. I've taken up too much of your time," Eric responded to my motion.

"No, I wasn't trying to be subtle. Just thinking of the opportunity this team give all of us," I said and tried to brush away his concern for my schedule.

Eric got to this feet. The leather outfit squeaked a little. It hugged his body. He needed to stop wearing it as everyday clothing if he wanted to halt the gay male X-Men from focusing on him. I chided myself again for failing to recognize the power of that uniform in the past.

"It is an opportunity, and I'm grateful you extended it to me. I pretty sure Japheth feels the same way," he said and started to edge around his chair. "But I'm burning your time jawing with you."

"It was a productive chat, Eric. We need more of this… all of us," I stated my thoughts.

"We do, and we will. Right now you need to hit those books so you can be the only X-Men CPA on record. You can use the tax code as a weapon!"

I threw my head back and started laughing at the suggestion. When I lowered my head, he already moved around the chair. A big Cheshire grin rested on his rather handsome features. The recticle crinkled around his eye.

"We still on for a group dinner tomorrow?"

"Yep, and I got one more question for you?"

"Shoot," he agreed.

"Are you right or left handed?" I asked.

Eric smirked and said: "Believe it or not, I'm ambidextrous. I use one hand or the other depending on the task, but neither is dominant."

"Cool!"

"You?" He counter-questioned.

"Right. Just you're average right-hander," I told him.

"Sure. Every average person's got a cosmic force floating around in their brain. I see it all time!"

I started to laugh again.

"Get back to you books," he quasi-ordered me.

"I will. See you later," I replied.

"Bye!"

With that Eric and his form-fitting outfit slipped out of my office. He closed the door. I sat in my chair and looked at it with a grin on my face. In the span of about one hour I gained greater confidence in my new teammates. It improved the odds for our general success. A particular word struck me. I poked the side of my head.

"Hope you were paying attention to those two conversation, Murphy. We need these guys. You need them. The more friends and colleagues I get, the safer you are. Remember that," I told the Focus of Probability.

I did not hear any voices in my head.


	10. Chapter 10

The week became a strange blur of studying, testing, training, and the few moments I could slip away with Ram. The Monday team dinner allowed us to build on our relationships and for Ink and Maggott to see how the rest of us dealt with one another in a more social setting. I got the impression they liked the easy camaraderie between us. When not training or doing actual accounting work for the Institute, I buried myself in the CPA exam preparation materials. I sat for tests on Tuesday and Thursday; a feat the proctor told me few ever managed. Despite that warning, I felt as though I did well on both. It seemed strange I felt a step closer to becoming a normal person. On Thursday, the team turned our meal into a small congratulatory celebration for me. The other diners in the dining hall threw annoyed glances and looks at us, but we ignored them and enjoyed ourselves.

Friday turned into a frightfully ordinary day spent reviewing the quarterly financial report I would give to Charles. Afterward I waited on the veranda until Ram came to pick me up. During that time I considered buying car when I got the back-pay from Charles for my previous services to the Institute. Once Ram arrived, I forgot about that and spent a quiet evening out marveling at our developing relationship. Ram also tried to treat it as celebration for my completing the CPA examinations, but I did not care about that. I just wanted to spend time with him and bath in the way he looked at me. Each time we met I counted my fortunes at our meeting. It made me wonder if Murphy played any role in that, except for the couple times he lashed out at the handsome little man.

Later that night we lay naked in bed at his house staring at one another. Earlier we got yelled at one by one of his roommates for making too much noise, yet that did nothing to dampen our enthusiasm. Since the revelation of his past, a barrier felt removed. Ram seemed more willing to commit to the relationship. I knew other issues would arise in time; however, we already showed we could deal with them. My emotions headed in a very specific direction, and I received no complaints from Murphy.

"God, you are so good looking," I whispered at him because I found him so irresistibly attractive.

"Mmm," Ram hummed and smiled.

"And you're smart and hard working… and did you give any thought to getting your G.E.D.?

"Some. Never did too good in school. Too much other crap got in the way."

"There's a really good community college nearby, and you know I'll help you as much as you want and as much as I can," I reminded him.

"This important to y'all?"

I nodded. In the dark of his room, I could still see what little light made it under the door glint in his eyes. It appeared I got his attention on the subject once again.

"How come?" He asked and less defensively than earlier in the week.

"Like I told you: it'll increase your income potential, plus… and I don't want to scare you."

"Boy, y'all got a piece of the universe in that there head of yours, and ya think somethin' y'all is goin' to say is gonna scare me?" Ram said and took me to task.

I smiled and said: "It's just a thought, but if you get your G.E.D. you can take classes to become a general contractor. You could start you own company. Maybe help out some of the other people that live here and come drifting through. You could help mutants that didn't have it as easy as me."

His eyes narrowed to bare slits, and he remained quiet and still. I forced myself to breathe normally and wait. After a minute, I saw him focus on my face.

"Why y'all thinkin' so big for me?" He asked in a hushed manner.

"'Cause I don't think you got enough of it when you were younger," I explained my thinking. "See, I grew up with my mom and dad telling me I could be whatever I wanted. They always expected me to go to college to get a functional degree, as they called it, and I internalized that. You never got the chance to do that 'cause people focused on other things about you."

He nodded. I reached over and stroked his cheek, and than ran my fingers through his straight, somewhat fine but oddly coarse hair. The edges of his mouth curled in response.

"Ram, you more than proved you're capable of doing anything you want. I'm not asking again, but it's why I wanted you to join our team. You don't want to, I get that, and I'm not going to try and change your mind," I said and replied to the shift of his facial expression. "But on this school thing I'm going to push. You're smart. You've got a really good brain up there not contaminated by a celestial mathematical equation."

Ram snickered.

"And, personally, I don't think you're going to be satisfied with just slinging bricks around wherever they tell you to. You've got ambition. I can feel it. Maybe it started with this house, but I know you want more."

"Ever think maybe y'all is seeing things in me that ain't there?"

I wrapped my hand around his neck and jiggled it a bit before I said: "My parents dreamed for me before I could do it for myself. That's all I'm trying to do for you."

"What does Murphy think?" Ram inquired and grinned.

"He thinks you should listen to me."

"Thought y'all said he doesn't think."

"So I'm extrapolating for him," I rejoined and smiled at the same time.

"Pretty opinionated for a bunch of math, 'cause I never did give much thought to bein' a general contractor," he whispered.

"I can see it now: Hammer and Fist Masonry!"

Ram started laughing, but in the midst of doing so he moved his face forward and planted his lips on mine. I did not need much, if any, reason to kiss him. He slid closer to me and our flesh touched. The previous two hours notwithstanding, I began to physically react.

"Man, I think I done figured out what y'all's real mutant power is," he said and pressed himself harder against me, and that only caused more reaction. "Got yerself a real appetite there, huh?"

"Um… I think it's mostly because it's you," I replied in a slightly deeper voice.

"Ya tryin' to get me to fall for y'all?"

I nodded.

"It's workin'."

What happened between us next did not leave breath or time to finish our discussion. However, within the past several weeks I learned once an idea got planted in Ram's brain, it usually found fertile ground. In my opinion Ram needed to think further ahead about his life. I granted he spent most of his early life trying to find a basic stable sense of security. Now that he spent four years finding that for himself, and I hoped I factored in there somewhere, it seemed a good time for him to cast a farther gaze into the future.

We got yelled at again by Mikey who shared a wall with Ram's bedroom. We ignored him when he pounded on the wall to get us to quiet down. It seemed so beautifully normal in my mind as we writhed around fulfilling one another. Fortunately for me the man I now claimed as a boyfriend lived up to his birth name.

Seven exhausted but happy people exited one of the dangers rooms the next day shortly before dinner. Although I received numerous complaints, including from Charles, I signed up our team for every available slot I could find in the danger room schedules. We got accused of purposefully dominating the training facilities. Marrow best summed up our attitude toward our detractors.

"Fuck off," she said to Colossus when we first entered the danger room we picked for that afternoon as he griped about wanting to use it.

We filed past his team because, unlike him, I made sure my team got their pick of training facilities for the afternoon. Even though we struggled to find tactics that worked for us as a group, we got to watch Maggott unleash Eany and Meany for the first time. He held back in previous sessions because we only encountered hard-light simulations. This time I made sure we got real materials to face off against. For those of us who never saw the man and his symbiotes at work, it became awe inspiring. Murphy buzzed in my head for a little while as I watched the slugs tear apart and devour a metal barrier placed in our way. Then seeing Maggott fully charged provide, well, a charge of its own. I always understood Maggott to be extremely dangerous as a foe, but I switched the label to lethal. It seemed certain no one on our team doubted the reasons for Maggott's inclusion, not that any of us did from the get-go.

"Well, my sweets, it looks like we need to work on our timing," Stacey said while wiping sweat from her chest and neck as we walked toward the stairs. "Japheth, how well do your friends respond to commands?"

Japheth simply nodded his head as Stacey swabbed her body. Doug, Hector, and Ink did as well. It seemed a safe bet they heard her voice, but not the actual words. Marrow grunted in disgust. The stairs loomed before us. I could not escape the ban on my using the elevators. The off-chance I might encounter someone neither I nor Murphy liked and would damage the lift seemed inevitable.

"Maggott!" Marrow barked the name when he silently stared.

"What?" He barked at her and snapped his head in her direction.

"Are you going to answer her question?" I supplied the rationale for the shouting.

"What question?"

A hiccup of a laugh escaped me when Marrow growled at him. I saw Stacey's face break in a wide smile, and three of the five males sighed in response. The woman could not help exuding pheromones as she fought. The two seemed to go hand-in-hand. Given the situations I envisioned for the team, that would likely prove a devastating weapon unless we encountered an all female or all gay male squad of henchmen. As we walked and attempted to make conversation despite Stacey's penchant for distracting all heterosexual males, I searched through my duffle bag until I found a printout I made the night before. I gently elbowed Doug and then handed him the sheet.

"Huh?" He said and then looked down at the sheet.

I studied him as his eyes twitched back and forth scanning the page. He stopped walking while his concentration took over. The rest of the group halted and watched as well. An expression of frustration finally settled on my best friend's face.

"Dude, what is this? It's garbage. It doesn't mean anything," Doug grumbled at me and then looked up.

"Are you sure? Look at it again?" I requested.

"What is it?" Marrow whispered behind my back.

I held up a hand with one finger pointing upward. The silence that surrounded the seven of us became a bit more intense as we got to see Doug at work. It took me over two weeks, actually almost three years, to find something to really test his skills. The task I set before him could become a landmark event.

"No, nothing. These symbols don't mean anything. I'm not detecting any actual language. It's like somebody made this up to fool other people into thinking it's a real code or written phonetic system. Where'd you find this?" Doug stated after another minute of studying the printout.

"It's a page from the Voynich Manuscript. It was written sometime during the fifteen century, and people have been trying to decode it ever since. Half the scholars who looked at it think it's some kind of hoax or fraud perpetrated at the time. Until you, no one's ever knew for sure," I recited from memory part of what I learned. "I figured it'd be a good test for you."

"Kind of gives me a headache to be honest. It's like it wants to be a language, but… it's just pretty symbols that don't mean anything. Someone put a lot of work into this hoax. Why'd they do it?"

"No one knows."

"How can we be certain this is as Doug says it is?" Maggott inquired and somehow managed not to sound accusatory.

"Doug deciphered the Skrull language in less than an hour when he first saw it," Stacey informed him.

"Forty-six minutes to be exact. It took me a little while to realize the length of the line actually acted both as punctuation and conjunctions," Doug rumbled and still sounded upset with himself that he mistook something he thought should be obvious.

"He reads Mayan glyphs for fun," Hector said about his friend.

"Those are some weird ass stories, Hector, and you said you liked hearing them!"

Hector chuckled, and Doug shook his head.

"Well, at least we know you're still functioning. Did you like the test?" I asked him.

He started walking toward the stairwell, and we all fell in around him.

"I thought you were playing a bad joke on me. I'm serious: it kind of hurt to look at that stuff. Whoever came up with it is sort of a genius. I can see why people think it's a real language," Doug stated.

"So in two minutes you were able to figure out that didn't mean anything?" Ink questioned him as we reached the first step.

"I saw patterns and cyclic elements, but it didn't correspond to anything else on the page, and the character repetitions are random. The person who created it tried to mimic phonemic symbol constructions and maybe even made some sort of guide, but it breaks down in to nothing really fast."

We started to climb the stairs. The small show I made Doug perform served an actual purpose. I wanted the new members to see he possessed a truly extraordinary skill. I also wanted those of us who knew him to remember anew why he got accepted into the X-Men. He felt underutilized by the organization, and I knew they did not give him enough to do. He spent most of his working day waiting for sporadic translation assignments or correcting bad translations on automated translation web sites.

"How do you do with codes and ciphers?" Ink followed up with the most logical question.

"Ah, hello? My team name is Cipher," he said through a smile. "I figured out Enigma in about the same time I cracked the Skrull language… and how the Nazis varied the inputs. What Turing managed to figure out with mathematics and electronics was genius."

"Guess I got to take your word for it 'cause I don't know what Enigma is or who Turing is," Eric confessed and his face turned a bit red.

We rounded the bend on the switchback as we walked up the stairs

"Eric, I've got a book you should read, and watch the movie The Imitation Game. It's pretty fascinating stuff," Doug encouraged his colleague.

Eric did not appear convinced and nodded his head. As we neared the stairwell exit doors, I stopped. The rest halted when I turned to look at them. All morning I debated a request Ram made the night before. I finally decided to just go with it and let the cards fall where they may.

"Um, I don't know what any of you have planned for tomorrow, but… see, Ram and I would like you to join us for dinner somewhere tomorrow night. Sort of a meet and greet. He wants to get to know the people I spend so much time with, and, honestly, I really want you all to get to know him," I said in a rush and nearly blathered.

"Ooh, this sounds like it's getting serious, Teddy," Stacey cooed the words.

"Yeah, it's heading in that direction," I admitted and felt my cheeks heat up a bit.

"Sure," Hector agreed first. "I'd like to get to know him."

"Me, too," Doug chimed in.

"This guys makes you stupid, so, fuck, yeah, I want to meet him," Marrow consented in her own inimical fashion.

I looked to Ink and Maggott. They glanced at each other. Ink shrugged.

"I don't have any plans," he said to the other newest member.

"This would be good for our friendships, so, yes," Maggott replied and then looked at me while bobbing his head.

"Great!" I gushed. "I'll talk to Ram in a little bit and then send a text letting you know the time and place."

"And I supposed you'd like me to drive?" Stacey snickered through her question.

"Please?" I coyly begged.

"I've got a car, so I can take some of us," Ink volunteered.

"My car is very small and only seats three people, but I will take whoever wishes to go with me," Maggott ventured.

"Well, we'll figure that out once I know where we're going. It, um, might be Thai food. Any problems with that?" I informed them and asked.

No on objected. From the expressions on their faces, I could see a myriad of reasons why they agreed. Ink and Maggott did it as a gesture of friendship. Doug, Hector, and Stacey likely wanted to really meet the person who I openly began to seriously care about. Marrow probably wanted to make sure he did not present a threat to me or the team. Emotion surged through my chest.

"Thanks," I said in a thick voice.

We exited the stairwell with me making promises to keep them in the loop. Everyone stated a need to go and wash the sweat off of themselves form our vigorous training session. I needed to do the same. However, I veered off course and headed for Charles' office. Heading out on my own without notifying him seemed acceptable; however, the whole team going out for a night seemed to require some notification on our part. When I reached his office, the doors sat closed. I heard voices on the inside, so I gently knocked.

"Come," Charles' voice ebbed through the wood panel.

I slid it open and stuck my head inside. It surprised me to see Scott Summers sitting around the coffee table with Ororo, Logan, and Rogue. The five heads faced me.

"Um, yeah, sorry to intrude, but I wanted to let you know my team will be going out tomorrow night for dinner. I figured I should give you advance warning since it is the whole team," I said and tried to speak specifically to Charles.

"Theo… Ted, please, come in. I think there is a small matter we need to address," Charles said, and I could hear a paternal twang in his tone.

I stepped inside, closed the door behind me, and walked over to the settee. It dawned on me that I stood before the most senior cabal of X-Men, sans Hank McCoy, and it started to make me defensive. Murphy began to heat up in response to my nervousness.

"Pitor and Hank tell me you've been monopolizing the training facilities," Charles began, and the complaint actually helped me relax.

"We've got a lot of work to do to bring the team style together, form basic strategies for what we want to accomplish, and really get to know one another as teammates. I thought you of all people, Charles, would appreciate our growing dedication to the idea," I rejoined and got a bit snarky at the end.

"That is commendable, but your team name – really, The Unwanted? – is showing up on every danger room roster. Are you training individually or as a group?" He charged.

I smirked in a guilty fashion and said: "Just covering all the bases so we, ah, get the right training in."

"Be that as it may, we're establishing a new policy. Each group is now limited to two room assignments a day. If you try to sign up for more than that, you will automatically be blocked. If there is a special circumstance, you can address it to either me or Dr. McCoy," the man in wheelchair firmly stated. Then smiled a little. "However, I do appreciate the gusto with which you and your members are approaching this – shall we say – experiment."

"It's an interesting plan, Ted," Scott said and nodded his head once. "We don't have a lot of undercover operatives or a team dedicated to intelligence gathering. You found a pretty good niche."

I liked Scott Summers. It seemed he saw the way Hank and Logan treated me and decided to take a different tact. Scott never talked down to me and seemed to respect what got lodged in my head. He also did not not seem to fear me. Given what he experienced with Jean Grey, I doubted he feared much. For the past year and a half he worked at establishing a base in California near Sacramento. Quite a number of mutants came from the west coast, and it seemed logical. Scott also became the logical choice to head the new branch. I missed his presence at the mansion.

"They sure do wreck enough rooms," Rogue drawled, but I decided not to engage her on the issue.

When I did not react, or more precisely when Murphy did not react, Charles seemed a bit surprised and said: "So where do you plan to dine tomorrow evening?"

"Not sure yet. The group just agreed, and I need to find out where Ram would like to go. This is sort of a get-to-know-me dinner with him and the team," I related.

"Yes, Mr. Darby," Charles intoned. "Theodore…"

A crackling noise interrupted him and smoke rose up from the control box of his wheelchair. The man sighed in an exasperated and tired fashion. One eyebrow shot upward as he gave me a disapproving look. I stood looking at him with the clear thought he shouldered all the blame for this incident.

"It's not like I haven't told you a thousand times I don't like being called by the name Theodore," I said in flat manner.

"What if we referred to you by your X-Men name?" He inquired.

"Your chair might explode. I hate that name more than my given name, so let's just stick with Ted. Okay?"

"Do you have a better code name, Ted?" Ororo asked me out of the blue, and I could hear sympathy in her voice.

"Um… Murphy is all about probability… shifting the odds and… D'uh! God, I feel so stupid," I chastised myself. "What about Oddity?"

"You would actually prefer to be called Oddity?" Charles asked in a surprised manner.

"Hold on, Charles, it fits," Logan rumbled, and a second later I realized he did not mean it as a compliment.

I ignored Wolverine's slight and said: "Beats the hell out of PAB, plus I got to pick it. How many people here didn't get to pick their X-Men name? Storm? Rogue? Cyclops?"

Not a single hand got raised.

"Very well, Mr. Johnson, going forward we will refer to you as Oddity while on missions," Charles said. He sounded strangely pleased by the pronouncement. Then his visage turned serious. "Now, with that out of the way, there is an issue with Mr. Darby."

"He still doesn't want to join, so no issue," I instantly rejoined.

"That is not the issue, but it does allude to it. What I am referring to is the man's past. You do understand he stands accused of several crimes carried out in concert with the criminal band know as The Subhumans?" The founder of the Institute gravely stated.

"He's not that person anymore, Charles. Ram gave back as much of the stolen money and goods as he could find. He's been on the straight and narrow for at least the last three years. He works a steady job, and Ram helps others get out of gangs like he did!"

"His charitable efforts and attempts at restitution aside, do you see how your association with him might… sully the name of the X-Men?"

My jaw fell open.

"Perhaps if he relinquished himself to the authorities and paid for his past crimes, it might go a ways in restoring his name…"

And then Charles' chair disassembled itself and fell to pieces causing the man to fall to the floor as Murphy became a horrendous whine in my brain. All the lights when out and unoccupied electrical outlets turned into a fireworks displays. The smell of electrical smoke filled the room. The other X-Men jumped to their feet.

"Knock that shit off, Johnson!" Logan yelled at me.

"Don't set the place on fire, Ted," Ororo exhorted me.

Scott and Rogue raced to help the professor. They kicked aside the remains of his wheelchair and moved him to a chair. Rogue then went and opened the shades that routinely got closed during meetings. Natural light flooded into the room and illuminated streamers of smoke. For my part, I struggled to think other thoughts to keep Murphy at bay. It felt like someone branded me with a hot poker on the back of my neck. I fought to push down the rage I felt at Charles' words. He glared at me from where he sat. I returned the glare.

"You misunderstand…" he started to say.

"Fuck off, Chuck," I railed at him. "Fuck right off! I'll tell Ram to turn himself in when you get Logan to do the same thing. He's a fucking mass murderer, and I don't recall him ever doing time in prison!"

"The two situations cannot be compared," Charles blared at me.

"Why? 'Cause he's one of your favorite lap dogs? Jesus Fucking Christ, Charles, Logan's been killing people for a hundred and fifty years, or are all those reports on him bullshit?" I yelled in return.

The room became deathly quiet. Cyclops and Storm first looked at me, and then they shifted their gaze to Charles. Logan and Rogue tried to burn me to death with the heat of their stares. Apparently I revealed a touchy subject. Given Rogue's not-so-secret love of the Wolverine prompted me to action. I called up my battle plan for her. It would take nothing for me to consider the odds of lethality if she tried to siphon all of her own power back into herself in an endless loop.

"Logan got made into a weapon," Charles tried to defend the man.

"And you made Ram a criminal. You never explained to him why he got rejected. He came here looking for acceptance at the very least, and the X-Men treated him like trash. That's why he turned to crime, you fuck-tard," I said and defended the man I loved.

It felt like blisters would erupt on the skin of my neck, and that told me I needed to further distract Murphy. I thought about the chances of my ever understanding the game of cricket. Murphy jumped on it and switched from a whine to a buzz. I breathed a little easier. I did not want to take down the mansion and kill my friends. However, I still needed to speak to the topic at hand.

"Holy shit! You talk about me being a danger to others, but what about him? I've never killed anyone. Ever! I've kept Murphy from killing anyone. Have you done that with Logan, huh? What is his fucking body count since he came to the X-Men, and what have you done to make him pay for his crimes?"

Charles scowled at me.

"Not one damn thing. You've protected him, and that makes you an accessory to murder, Professor Xavier. Hmm? Are you changing people's fucking minds so they skip prosecuting him? You're culpable in giving aid and harboring a serial killer," I spat at the man.

"Now, wait just a second, Ted," Scott said and stood up. He looked troubled by the sudden turn. "The professor offered Logan a haven so he could stop all that. You know that if you've been reading what I think you've been reading."

"So why'd he offer it to Logan and not to Ram? Huh? Why are only some people accepted as X-Men and not the rest? There're dozens of mutants out there who'd make better X-Men than the Wolverine… and they don't have a murderous criminal past go with it. So for Charles to sit there and say my relationship with Ram dirties the name of the X-Men, then he's thrown a fucking graveyard worth of dirt all over the X-Men brand!" I rejoined and tried not to yell at the one person in the room I fully respected.

"Charles?" Scott said and faced the man.

"Scott, you are very aware Logan is a unique case," the owner of the mansion sighed.

Wolverine all but snarled at me. I twisted my head to look at him. A second later he winced. I distracted Murphy again.

"The young man in question did not have the right temperament at the time," Charles meekly added.

Even Rogue gaped at the man when Cyclops did. Ororo also appeared taken aback by the statement. A feeling of vindication swept through me. Professor Xavier's hypocrisy got exposed to some of his favorite people. I knew he would not like that.

"Right temperament? You mean because Ram didn't recognize Wolverine and didn't show him the proper respect. Did Logan ever tell you he made fun of Ram for being a little person and that's why Ram shot back at him?" I asked and laid bare all I knew about Ram's rejection.

The Wolverine growled out load.

"Please, Logan. The last thing we need right now is you tangling with the focus in Theo… Ted's head. I suspect Ted will do little to stop it from killing you," Charles wisely speculated.

"Not if I kill him first," Logan snapped.

"And you'd doom all of us if you did. Ted programmed to focus to wipe out at least the planet if he gets killed by one of us."

Ororo, Rogue, and Scott whipped around to face me. Ororo already knew, but the reminder troubled her. Rogue and Scott seemed appalled by the news. I did not back down or flinch at the collective approbation leveled at me.

"I have a right to protect myself," I answered all of their unspoken accusations.

"What if he gets his ass killed on a mission?" Logan blurted.

"I've made the retaliation conditions very specific, moron. Not everyone is as thick-headed or dense as you…"

"Mr. Johnson, enough!" Charles yelled at me. "This is getting us nowhere. Thank you for informing us of your plans for tomorrow evening. We have other business to attend to, so please see yourself out."

Instead of arguing, I simply whipped around and stomped to the doors. After throwing them open as violently as I could, I slammed them shut. The thud reverberated around the foyer and hallway. Several of the residents passing through halted to see what made the sound. I stormed past them and fumed all the way up to my bedroom. Along the way I began to think of what Charles and the others might plan, so I made plans of my own.

Less than an hour later I gathered my shower kit and clean clothes. I spent the preceding period setting up a number emails to be sent to the Canadian Security Intelligence Service, the Federal Bureau of Investigation, the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, and INTERPOL. I included as much information and specific details about Logan's violent past as I could, including his stints at Alkali Lake, and the body count in both the United States and Canada. References to his former ties to a mercenary group under Major Striker seemed relevant, so I sprinkled that throughout the long messages. I made specific note that Charles Xavier and the Institute harbored Logan for years and years even in light of his past actions. After saving all the emails in draft form, I concentrated. Slowly I wondered what the odds of success would be for Murphy to send the email in the event any of the X-Men turned in Ram.

"Wow," I said as the strange ripple ran across the back of my head.

Every time I made a plan for Murphy based on a specific set of conditions that did not yet exist, I felt a wave pass through me. It happened when I made the contingency plans in case the X-Men murdered me. I felt it when I made all the specific plans for each of the X-Men. It somehow told me I tinkered with the future. With that finalized, I went to my bedroom door and pulled it open. What I saw made me halt.

"You're not dumb, Ted, so I'm curious to know what contingency plan you made," Scott said to me from where he leaned against the wall.

"If anyone notifies the authorities about Ram, then they get word about Logan. Fair is fair," I replied.

The ruby quartz glasses he wore made it impossible to see where he directed his gaze. However, he stood and walked toward me. I backed up. He kept walking. When he stood in my room, he closed the door. Murphy began to get agitated.

"Scott?" I asked ten questions with his name.

"How did all this get started? I knew you weren't the happiest person here when I left for California, but this… it's like you're at war with us."

I retreated further into my room. He leaned against the door. I stopped and studied him. His face remained passive. Few X-Men could maintain as calm a demeanor as Scott Summers. I envied him that skill.

"Tell me: how much did they tell you about what's in my head before you left?" I answered with my own question.

"I knew it wasn't natural to you… and not a mutation. It didn't act like a living entity occupying your brain, but not much else other than that. Why?"

"Oh, listen to this."

I spent forty minutes giving him the condensed version of events over the past several weeks. I summarized conversations with Charles and Hank. I even gave a quick rundown of the visit from Brightstorm. By the time I got close to the end, Scott no longer wore a passive expression. He chewed on his lower lip and seemed to stare at the floor. I ended by giving scant details about Ram and being assigned to a team with my friends. I also cast the very last part under a suspicious cloud.

"Sounds like you don't trust that it's a legitimate group?" He inquired in reserved fashion.

"Since I got here Charles has been all about keeping me distracted. If the team works out, great for him since it gives the X-Men a new tool. If it doesn't work out, great for him 'cause it kept me here for six months so he can see what I can do with Murphy. I want to the team to work, but I question Charles' motives," I answered.

He nodded and asked: "Is it true you made fight plans against all the X-Men?"

I nodded.

"Why? And what was that stuff about planetary doom?"

I spent ten minutes telling him about all the plans I constructed for Murphy to carry out in the event of my untimely demise at the hands of the X-Men. He looked shocked that I would believe the X-Men would try to kill me. I reminded him about the animus between Hank, Logan, Quentin, and myself as examples. On top of that I added my speculations about certain people carrying out what they believe Charles meant despite what the man says.

"You really believe that?" He asked in a troubled voice.

"I'd be a fool not to. Logan is a murderous thug, and Hank would like to see me leave the house at the very least. You know all about me and Quentin. The only way I can take charge of my life is to make sure they know I'm not messing around," I stated.

"And the whole planetary doom business?"

"Is bullshit. I told Charles' Murphy would go after any X-Men connected to my, ah, unfortunate demise if it doesn't come around through natural causes. I never said Murph would blow up the world. He's the one who keeps spreading that rumor."

"But he told me that… what you call Murphy could possibly end all of existence," Scott said in a cautious manner.

I shook my head and replied: "Charles has that kind of imagination. So does Hank. I don't. I say planet Earth, but it's only a hazy concept for me. The second you try to get me to think about the galaxy my creative juices run out. I don't know how to think on a scale that big… and the universe? Give me a fucking break."

"Maybe that's why it picked you, Ted. Maybe Murphy knew you can't imagine that large. It means you won't… or can't interfere with what it needs to do. All the other stuff about you would mean nothing to it."

"Then why does it react to my thoughts and emotions… the plans I make for it?"

"Do you ever really think when you scratch a small itch?"

"So I'm just an itch to Murphy?" I made a faux complaint with the question.

"And how big are you compared to the universe?" He continued the duel with questions, and Scott got me.

Instead of making me angry, depressed, or scared, the notion I did not really factor into Murphy's operations brought me a sense of comfort. It reacted to me like, as Scott so indelicately put it, an itch. I still thought it also acted to keep me alive so it did not have to find a new vessel. I became a matter of simultaneous convenience and insignificance. It would placate my extremely petty demands to make the itch go away and it could focus on the probabilities running through the cosmos. Murphy probably did not even register my existence.

"I can live with that," I said more to myself than my friend.

"Live with what?" Scott asked for clarification.

"Being nothing to Murphy. If it has to spend a nanosecond or even something less on me, then why not? It's only happening on a little mud ball circling a medium sized star in the backwaters of some old galaxy. How much can one insignificant spot affect the rest of universe. I'd be willing to bet Murphy keeps the odds local around me. So it has nothing to fear about reacting to my stupid little concerns."

I leaned back so my butt rested against the edge of my desk while I considered what the relationship between a thing as complex and ancient as Murphy and a piddling little human who might last eighty years at best might mean to it. From the view of the universe, I drifted down to the quantum level. I smiled. I glanced at Scott and continued to smile. He looked worried.


	11. Chapter 11

The next morning I felt surprisingly good. Before I went to bed I Skyped with my brother and sister to tell them about the CPA tests. That allowed me to sleep. At breakfast the team gathered in the dining hall, except for Stacey who spent the night elsewhere, and asked me what happened in Charles' office because rumor ran rampant throughout the mansion for the rest of the afternoon. After hearing what they heard, I proceeded in a very loud voice to explain the argument that ensued between Professor Xavier and me. Many, many heads leaned in my direction as I explained what he said about Ram and how I countered with Logan's real history. I labeled Logan a mass murderer at least a dozen times. I describe in explicit detail some of the more speculator killing rampages the Wolverine undertook. Gasps of horror and shock met the tales. I closed by stating all this information could be found in the official records of the X-Men.

"Hey, Ram suggested we go for Italian since everybody can find something they like at an Italian restaurant," I said in my normal voice to my friends and colleagues. "We're leaving around six."

"No, no, no, butt-wad," Marrow interjected and stared at me. "People said Summers went to see you after the fight. What the fuck went on with that?"

At a considerably lower volume I gave them the gist of what we discussed. I included a simple statement I planned to report Logan to various Canadian, international, and United States law enforcement agencies if anyone reported Ram. My speculation Charles' and the others would try to intervene in my plans met with agreement. I left out the exact details of my plan, but I said I knew Charles and his cronies now knew because Scott probably informed them.

"Fucking snitch," Marrow growled and her fingernails carved small grooves in the table,

The rest of the team joined in on the sentiment.

"Un-uh," I harrumphed and rejected their condemnation of Cyclops as I toyed with the last of my breakfast. "Scott never hides his intent. I knew he'd go back and tell them, and he knew I knew. He told me long ago he remains very loyal to the X-Men regardless of his other relationships… and I think we all know what he means by that."

"So you're not mad at him?" Ink rumbled the question, and I looked at him and could not immediately figure out what irritated him.

"Nope, not one bit. I like Scott. He's always been decent to me. Plus I guarantee you he's going to have a lot of heated discussions with Charles. He won't let this sit. Scott'll make a cause out of this."

"You're really good at planning stuff, Ted…" he started to respond.

"Oh, wait! I got a new code name! Before the argument got started Charles' agreed my name PAB was stupid, so you can just call me Oddity now!"

"That is a good name," Maggott said while the rest stared at me.

I could see them mentally measuring up the name.

"Who's idea was it?" Doug asked.

"Mine. It's a play off of what Murphy does with probability," I explained to all of them.

"Kind of a stretch," he rejoined.

"Better than that other name," Hector said in an aside fashion.

"I don't get it," Eric stated.

I then noticed he wore jeans and a print tee-shirt that appeared remarkably new. Part of me missed being able to ogle his body through tight leather. He did, however, appear much more relaxed. I wondered if anyone else noticed.

"I don't have any real mutant powers, so that kind of makes me an oddity in the X-Men. Charles' is trying to hold me prisoner, so that's another point. Murphy… shit, I should just rename him Murphy Oddity Jones. You can't get anymore odd than having a universal force stuck in your brain, can you?" I explained more of the rationale I concocted for the name. "And Murph changes the odds of events happening, so there's that."

"Are you happy with it?" Hector inquired.

"Very. It was my choice, my idea, so what's not to love?" I responded.

"Well, if you like it, then I guess I like it… Oddity," Marrow said in a rather pleasant fashion. "At least one good thing came out of that goddamn meeting."

"Something else, too, that I thought about after I got cleaned up and was waiting for Ram."

"And?" Maggott prompted me when I purposefully paused for too long.

"Murphy didn't got for a kill shot even though I never heard him like that in my head before," I told them.

"I thought you said he doesn't talk to you?" Eric jumped on the statement.

"He doesn't," Doug answered for me. "If you watch him, you'll see Ted gets a weird look on his face like the light is hurting his eyes. He says he hears a buzzing or whining sound in his brain… not his ears, which still baffles the hell out me."

"Like tinnitus?"

"No, Eric, not like tinnitus," I rejoined and took over. "It's a really weird sensation that's kind of like a sound, and that's the only way I can describe it. Plus he makes the back of my head and neck heat up when he gets going."

"Cooking," Doug supplied the obvious pun.

My teammates, my friends – and Eric and Japheth seemed to be falling into that category as well – snickered. The moment of worry seemed to pass. Doug, Hector, and Marrow went through this enough times to know when to relax. Since I did not seem wound up over the event, they followed my lead regarding it. Marrow, however, did focus on one item I said.

"What'd you mean Murph didn't go for a kill shot?" She questioned.

"I mean I was so angry at Charles I didn't care if he lived or died. Murph could've vaporized him, but he just blew apart the wheelchair and shorted out all the lights and outlets," I replied with a shrug. "Okay, I don't know what would've happened if the others came after me, but they didn't. I'm still kind of impressed Murphy didn't force Charles to use his own powers against himself."

"So you are saying Murphy has more restraint than you?" Hector queried with an edge in his voice.

I stared at him for a second before I said: "I know what you're thinking, Hector, and maybe this once you kind of have a point. The unfairness of Charles saying Ram should turn himself in, and he hinted he might do it, when Logan sits there drowning in the blood of the people he's killed hit me really fucking hard. I'll be honest: I really don't have any regard for Charles' life anymore. He's a liar and a manipulator, and I can't stand that."

Five faces gazed at me with mixed expressions.

"Does this go back to your mom and dad?" Doug quietly stated his question.

"I think that's where it got started. Charles' wrecked my family, and he doesn't give a shit what it did to them or me. He saw it all in service of some greater need he defined for us. He's judge, jury, and executioner! No one calls him on his hypocrisy and his two-faced bullshit, and it totally pisses me off!"

"You're not wrong about him, Ted," Eric said before the other's could process what I said. "But you don't care about his life?"

"He sure as fuck doesn't care about mine! He only cares about Murphy. I'm willing to bet everything he'd be pleased if I died and Murphy went somewhere else," I spat.

"You might be right about that," Doug darkly opined. "He does seem more interested in what happens with Murphy than with you."

Hector and Marrow chimed in agreement. Ink and Maggott glanced at one another, and then at me. I returned the stare. Both seemed worried.

"Welcome to the reality of the X-Men," I said to them. "This isn't one big, happy goddamn family: it's Charles' fucking private mutant zoo, and we're the animals he keeps. Some of us he uses, and others he's trying to contain. Did you ever wonder why Erick Lensherr turned on him? Or Mystique? Or who knows how many other mutants once they got to know him and see what he's about and what he's doing."

"No one talks about that. Think about how Stacey deals with him," Doug intoned.

"But she's part of our team," Marrow said in rejection of that specific case.

"No, it's not permanent. I think she's doing this to make sure her friends don't get killed," I confessed. "She's here for us and not the X-Men. Ever notice how she won't wear anything with the symbol on it?"

"Is this why she does not live here?" Japheth inquired and his voice trembled a bit.

"Yeah," I told him.

I could see these concepts hitting him especially hard, yet I admired how he did not get up and leave. Eric already shared my distrust with the organization. Doug and Hector felt they would find no other place to feel safe. Marrow hated the X-Men and the mansion half the time, but I think she stayed because of us. I knew sooner or later I would depart. My gorge typically overflowed and keeping myself from unleashing Murphy became a daily struggle. Given what Scott and I discussed the previous day, I felt more free to use Murphy in whatever manner I wanted. Hector's worry I might go rogue and turn into something like Logan gave me pause and kept me on the up and up. I could feel all of these thoughts swirling around our table.

"And I need you guys to help me remind me who the real enemy is," I said to the team. "I hate Charles, I'm not going to deny that anymore, but I don't want to end up like Logan… some rabid animal even the mighty professor can't really control. I think what we're trying to be as a team is what the X-Men forgot about a long time ago. We… I need to be better than them."

My words made an impact on Hector. I watched as his facial muscles relaxed bit by bit as the seconds passed and he thought about what I said. Japheth continued to watch his empty bowl as though it became the source of his troubles. Eric's eyes flicked around the table and I could tell he tried to gauge the moment by the reaction of the others. Dough, Hector, and Marrow expressions did not look any different than they did during any other discussion. It did not take a genius to guess this conversation would continue in one form or another over time.

"So is Italian okay with everyone?" I asked when no one openly reacted to my last statement.

"Fine by me," Marrow chirped.

"Good," Japheth said immediately after her. "But I have been to Italy, and this is American Italian food."

"Yeah, that's about right," I agreed with the assessment.

The conversation then turned to finalizing plans for the evening. I again reminded them to meet out front at six o'clock when Ram planned to arrive to pick me up. Eric and Japheth debated who between them should drive, and Eric won since his car could hold more people. That meant three in Eric's car and three in Stacey's. I did not voice my opinion that Stacey's mechanical land leviathan could carry all of them in relative comfort.

At six-twenty-five in the evening we pulled into a parking lot into what looked like a closed diner. Ram drove around back while my head all but spun in a circle trying to determine why he took us there. It got more confusing when he stopped and turned off the motor. Three other cars also sat in the rear of the extinct establishment. Ram got out. I followed suit. Stacey's yellow whale and Eric's sensible brown sedan pulled up next to us. My friends and colleagues climbed out of the respective automobiles. I took a gander at Marrow to get a good read on the mood of the group.

"So… what? We have to cook the food ourselves?" Eric asked when we gathered in a small circle.

"Um, everyone, this is Ram," I said and did not respond Eric's comment. Then I pointed to each and said their names. "Ram this is Eric, Stacey, Doug, Marrow, Japheth, and Hector."

"Hi, y'all. Already sort of met some of ya back that first night at the club," Ram said and waved to the group. "Know y'all probably ain't thinking much 'bout this place, but give it sec."

With that Ram turned on one booted heel and walked toward a rusted screen door. He pulled it open, confronted another door, and then knocked. It cracked open. We all heard a whispered conversation. Moments later the door fully opened to reveal a mountain-sized door guard and a set of steps. Ram lead the way down. I followed on his heels, and the others arranged themselves behind me. As we descended the cement steps, the light grew at the bottom, we heard soft Italian music and the voices of people, and a delicious smell met us near the bottom. We turned the corner, and all became clear.

"This is fucking awesome," Marrow intoned and pretty much spoke for me. I think she spoke for the rest of us.

Behind a red velvet rope and a matrai'd standing behind a small podium, a mutant with an extra arm, a fairly large restaurant floor opened open. Most of the tables and booths, bedecked in red-and-white checked table clothes, sat occupied. The look of the food I could see only intensified the wonderful aromas wafting around us.

"Yeah, got us here a group reservation for Darby. Think I told y'all nine or ten?" Ram spoke to the maître d' who glanced down over the podium.

"Hmm, let's check and… yes, table for ten, and you are right on time," the maître d' said in a strange accent that caused Japheth's eyebrows to raise. The dark red jacket, white shirt, and black pants looked exquisitely tailored to the man (possibly a woman), and the art deco tie perfectly accentuated the outfit.

With the third arm, the man opened the velvet rope barrier while calling out a name. A woman with gray, not white gray of age but gray as in ash, hair, pitch black eyes, and slightly bluish skin strolled forward. She wore a white Oxford shirt with a black tie and black pants. A long white apron cinched at the waist reached nearly to her ankles. She smile a thousand watt smile at us and extended one arm to the main floor to bid us welcome.

"If the ladies and gentlemen would be so kind as to follow," she bade us in a pleasant voice. "Your table is this way."

No one really looked at us as we passed by the other patrons, and I admit it felt rather good. I could see a sense of ease settling over my friends. We got lead close to the back where an enormous round table stood at the ready. We began to arrange ourselves while Ram spoke quietly with the waitperson. She nodded and trotted off.

"Don't know what y'all wanted to drink, but I just put in for some house Chianti and toasted pane bread and olive oil dip," Ram told us as he stood next to his chair.

While we finished arranging ourselves and taking seat, the waitperson arrived with black plastic booster seat. She placed it on the chair next to which Ram stood. No one made a mention or show my boyfriend climbed into it. He sat at a comfortable height at the table. By the reaction of the customers and staff, I gleaned this did not present an unusual occurrence. Ram settled in. I reached over and squeezed his thigh under the table. He grinned.

"See, y'all livin' up at the mansion don't know all of what we got goin' 'round 'bout these parts. Lot of mutants in the area, so… lot of mutant places for us. Y'all are honestly in one of the best Italian restaurants anywhere near White Plains. Best kept secret in New York, I think," Ram gave his opinion.

"Smells divine," Stacey warbled the words, and four of the six males at the table appeared a bit woozy. "And aren't you the fine gentleman for thinking about our comfort as well."

"Shoot, bet I get tons more strange looks than any of y'all," he countered, but smiled at the compliment. "So all y'all Exers?"

"Them, yes, I… well, I help when I want," Stacey said.

"Ted told us what those fuckers did to you, Charles and the other ones, and maybe you're the lucky one," Marrow directly addressed the issue to which Ram carefully alluded.

"Forced me to make my own way, t'be honest, and maybe wasn't such a bad thing once I got myself straightened out right. I s'spect all y'all knows a bit about me," Ram answered and tilted his head toward Eric.

"Yes, we do," Eric gamely took up the thread, "but we also heard you're a changed person… for the better. I say let the past lie where it is: in the past."

"Gracious of ya."

"Did you really give it all back, and what did… um… the others think about that?" Hector questioned and gingerly phrased his question.

"None to happy, as y'all can rightly guess, but had to be done. I ain't one to be making folks poor what don't have it comin' to 'em. Them other people don't think much outside themselves and what they want. Took me a while to see 'em for what they is, but I didn't want no part of it once I did. Just wasn't right what they was doin', and wasn't right of me for, well, I guess givin' 'em a hand."

A surge of pride swept through me for Ram because he did not shy away from his past actions. He knew he did wrong, and admitted it. We all grinned at the pun he implanted at the end. He grinned as well, and I thought him more handsome than ever. As we adjusted to the fact truth would not be avoided, the waitress returned with glasses and two bottles of wine in bulbous bottles wrapped in dried grass lattice. A second person, a food runner, set a tray down on the stand while she delivered glasses to the guests. Out conversation subsided while the waitress then started doling out wine and explained the specials of the day.

Most of us appeared to be drooling by the time she finished explaining the specials of the day. Ram quietly asserted that quality and cost walked hand-in-hand, a subtle tell to us we should expect to pay a premium price. No one seemed to be too put out by that piece of information. The waitress also set out dishes of ever-so-lightly browned Tuscan bread and plates onto which she poured olive oil and then cracked pepper into it from a pepper mill tucked under her arm. In two spots on the table she put little cups of butter as an option. Once completed, she handed out menus to each person.

"How about five minutes to look over the menu?" She suggested.

"Yeah, that'll be good," Doug replied while the rest of us nodded our heads.

"Before I go, would anyone like to put in a drink order for something other than the Chianti?"

"Water'd be nice," Marrow said and tactfully did not swear.

"Anything else?" The waitress asked.

We all shook our heads.

"See you in five," the woman merrily told us.

Ten seconds later Hector said: "If the wait staff is any indication, the food should be fantastic. That waitress is really on her game."

"Y'all'll be backin' me up 'bout this place by the time we're done. Three stars, folks; three stars all the way," Ram confidently stated.

"Only three?" Marrow derisively snorted.

"That's all Michelin gives."

"Car tires?"

"No," Ram said and managed not to laugh, much to his credit. "Michelin rates gourmet restaurants 'cross the world. Three stars is all the give to the best, and it's a might big deal to get three."

"Erudite. I like," Stacy hummed while Marrow sat back to take in the information.

From that point nine people bent their heads to study the offered fare. We began openly discussing what each would get, and, in the rare circumstance such as this, each dish sounded better than the last. We also began snacking on the bread and olive oil. It amazed me lightly toasted bread could melt in the mouth in such a manner. When the waitress returned, we took a lottery to see who would order first. Ram, however, stepped up and gave his selection to the woman. Slowly we all placed our order, and Stacey commented she wanted what every one else chose.

"I could always bring small empty side dishes if you want to share," she offered.

We glanced around at one another and nodded. I enjoyed the fact Eric and Japheth appeared to be in the spirit of the evening. After the waitress confirmed our orders and went to put it in and begin our salads, we returned to discussing life as mutants. Eric and I periodically threw a guarded guilty look at one another since neither of us could boast an X-gene. Marrow took a nearly unnatural interest in Ram's house and housemates. He explained the principle behind the domicle, doing a much better job than I did, while also describing his work as a mason. I learned his strength allowed him to more quickly shape bricks with his bare hands. We then talked through our salads and during the small wait for our main dishes.

"So Eric and Jafet…. Is that right?" Ram tried to pronounce Japheth's name, but his southern accent made it tricky work.

"A soft tee sound at the end like you mean to whisper it," Japheth instructed him.

"Jafeth," Ram repeated and shrugged, "so y'all like this crew so far?"

"It is pleasing to be welcomed by a team that shows appreciation for what I do."

"And that is?"

"If I showed you, we would not be served dinner," Japheth carefully replied.

Several of us chortled, and he grinned.

"Eany and Meany tend to make of a display of themselves. They are… quite active when out," the keeper of the two slugs said in a demure fashion.

"Active?" Hector almost spit out the word. "Japheth, those two were amazing! They went through anything in their path. You were glowing like a Christmas bulb by the time they finished that second set of barriers!"

The honest awe in Hector's voice and the praise he delivered made Japheth smile. I suspected he did not often hear open admiration for his two symbiotes. However, almost from the time I considered him for the team, I knew he would fit right into out collection of X-Men misfits. It made perfect sense in my mind. Ram sat and listened, a half-smile on his face, as the group talked about our training sessions. We did not skimp on the fact we needed a lot of work and that some of our initial ideas proved less than successful. Marrow and Stacey joined in with Doug, Eric, Hector, and Japheth as they discussed different approaches to better integrate our styles. I said very little and intently listened. Ram asked many, many questions, and more than a few brought up very interesting topics.

"So let me see if'n I got this all straight in my head," Ram said after the main course arrived. "Y'all is new to this team thing…"

"Not me," Marrow interjected. "I got fucking yanked from my previous team for this one."

"I worked with several teams as mission support, but nothing real permanent," Doug said.

Hector shrugged while Stacey said: "I don't play well with others… most of the time."

"Japheth and me were both on teams," Eric intoned.

"And this all got goin' 'cause Ted asked to be put on one?" Ram inquired even though I told him at least twice how it got started.

"They're punishing us 'cause we're his friends," Doug said as he twirled linguine around a piece of shrimp on his fork and then stuffed it into his mouth.

Stacey started to giggle at the comment.

"So then that there means they just don't like Jafeth and Eric any?" My boyfriend said through a smirk. "Been there and done that."

Most of us started laughing. Those with food in their mouths quickly swallowed to avoid choking. Ram's statements contained so many layers I did not know where to begin peeling them back. I reached over and squeezed his leg again. His hand slipped down and covered mine for few seconds, but he needed it to eat.

"Is it true, you sweet little morsel, that you insulted Logan without realizing it?" Stacey purred.

I warned Ram that she would concoct a pet name for him as she did for almost every male she met. Thus, he did not react to one particular word. He bobbed his head.

"That boy is damn near as short as me," he replied to her. "Never knew that 'bout him. He was givin' me shit 'bout my height, so I threw it right back in his face. Told him was a just a wannabe dwarf."

The amazed expressions that met his short tale made Ram's cheeks glow.

"Honest! Didn't know it was him. Didn't see no damn knives sticking outta his hands, and he wasn't wearing one of them suits y'all wear. And he looks bigger on tee-vee and in pictures," Ram added in a rush.

"This would be something to see for ourselves. Logan is not the nicest of men," Japheth said in the lull that followed.

"You don't fucking say?" Marrow jumped in, and then reached over and tapped Japheth on the arm with a closed fist.

Hector nearly shot pasta out of his nose when he snorted at Marrow's rejoinder. Another damn broke, and the nine of us started cracking up. More than a few of the other patrons glanced our way to see if they could spy what caused the amusement. We laughed in a way I never quiet heard my friends laugh before: we shared in a joke stemming from our own personal experiences. Even Ram got to take part. It felt cathartic. Eric and Japheth laughed just as hard as the rest of us, and I knew in that instant they would stay with the team. Even Stacey appeared committed to join humor of the moment.

As much as if felt good to laugh, hunger also played a role in the evening. As we began to settle, I went back to work on my chicken piccata. The capers and lemon sauce almost set off Murphy as I sagged in disbelief. The tender chicken, hammered thin and lightly breaded, got sauteed in the amazing sauce. It lay on a bed of the thinnest, butter glazed angel hair pasta I ever saw. The steamed baby carrots and peas dusted with salt and dill only added to explosion in my mouth. My taste buds could not figure out which flavor it liked best. Around the table I saw similar expressions of culinary delight. The side dishes meant to share sat empty as each of us dined and showed tremendous reluctance to part with even one mouthful. Conversation took place between bites of food.

"Oh, my god," Stacey said as she mopped up the last of the tomato sauce from her eggplant parmigiana with a piece of roll. "It's going to take me weeks to work this off!"

"I want another order of this," Marrow said as she stared at the empty plate of braciole that came close to making her feral. She eyed the last piece of bow tie pasta dripping with a heady red wine sauce.

One by one we sang praises to our meals. A knowing smile spread across Ram's face as he listened. He apparently knew what we would encounter, and his prediction came very true.

"Now, the deserts they got here I ain't never had 'fore I got to New York, but – I'll tell ya – sometimes I come here just for that," he said and his eyes gleamed.

He glanced around, saw our waitress and flagged her down. When she arrived, the woman scanned the array of empty plates. A seeming sad look edged onto her features.

"Aw, you didn't save any room for desert," she said.

"Wanna bet," Eric

The waitress smiled and handed out dessert menus. Regardless of the amount of food we just ate, each one of us scanned the items. My mouth began to water anew. The woman serving us excused herself with the promise to return in a few minutes. She barely got two feet away when the great debate began over which looked the best. The restaurant offered the traditional Italian desserts of cannolis, a number of gelatos, glazed lemon pound cake, Italian ice in a variety of flavors, tiramisu, Torta della Nonna, and zuccotto. If that did not prove tempting enough, they carried three types of cheesecake, a chocolate cake that sounded lethal, two different types of fruit cocktail dishes, and lemon tarts. By the time the waitress returned, we each changed our minds at least three times. In the end we all ordered something different with the promise to share.

"So, ah, who's going to drive us home?" Stacey asked the group.

We started to chuckle at the question, but I seriously wondered if I would slip into a food coma. Fortunately for most of us the waitress arrived with our desserts and a big jug of coffee. She announced it as on the house since we consumed so much food. We profusely thanked her. She walked away with a pleasant smile on her face.

"Are we going to double the check and call it a tip 'cause she took care of us all by herself," Doug said before jamming part of a cannoli in his mouth and slumping to the side ecstasy.

"At least twenty percent," Marrow said as she gingerly ate raspberry Italian ice.

A general murmur of agreement met her recommendation. From that point Hector suggested we start passing the plates around. Although I felt protective over my tiramisu, I recalled our friendly agreement before dessert. Hence, our plates shifted one place to the right. The routine became a barely contained orgy of sampling. As dessert after dessert passed in front of me, each of which I tasted, I found myself at a loss to determine which tasted the best. The faces around reflected a similar problem. Ahs and oohs and many a yum got sounded throughout the process. When my original dessert returned to me, only a small scrap remained. I did not care.

"Good god, this food is fantastic," I hummed as I slid back in my chair.

Japheth took it upon himself to dole out the coffee, and everyone accepted a cup. The creamers and sugar got passed around, and Ram almost made second dessert while I sipped mine black. The contented looks on the faces of my friends brought me a sense of peace. The night progressed far better than I ever would imagine, and it mostly came down to Ram's incredible restaurant selection.

"Who got something bad to say 'bout this here place?" Ram asked during a lull.

He got booed, but he smiled.

"You were right, Ram: this place… wow. Some of the best Italian I ever ate, and I've been to Italy several times," Eric stated.

"Superb," Doug summed it up in one word.

"Fuck yeah," Marrow instantly agreed. "So what do you think of all this, us?"

Ram gazed at her, and I could see him thinking. I appreciated he did not answer right away. His dark eyes looked thoughtful.

"I know some of y'all been friends for three, four years now," he began after the pause. "It really shows. Y'all care 'bout each other, and that shows, too. You new guys seem pretty relaxed, and that goes a ways in sayin' how y'all been treated by these folks. I think all y'all is goin' to do alright."

"That is kind of you," Japheth said in a low voice. "Even though I know you have a past, I do not find you disagreeable. It is also clear Ted is very fond of you. From what I know of him, he seems to have good judgment about people."

"Yeah. He's a bit of alright hisself," Ram remarked.

My friends smirked at the response.

"What I really know comes for how y'all been dealing with me tonight. I know we're all mutants, but, well, other than legs over there, none of y'all never done asked me one question about me bein' little."

"Why the hell would we do that? Isn't it kind of obvious how it affects your life?" Marrow rumbled and narrowed her eyes.

Ram grinned and said: "You'd think mutants be thinkin' like that, but they don't. I get shit all the time askin' if'n I need a hand reachin' for something or can I see over my car dashboard. All night I was waitin' for one of y'all to say somethin', but none ya did. Never even looked at me funny like I was out of sideshow. It's like it don't matter none to y'all… but in a good way."

"Ram, you didn't say anything about my invisible skin, so it goes both ways for me," Hector told him.

"Sugar, everyone sitting at this table caught shit for who they are or the kind of power they have. It's part of the reason we're a team now. Did Ted tell you what we call our group?" Stacey said and her voice poured like liquid gold across the table.

Doug, Hector, Ink, and Japheth suddenly looked a bit more serene.

"Yeah. Heard tell y'all is The Unwanted. Doesn't that just say it all?" The handsome little man to my left replied.

"Charles doesn't like the name. He didn't say why, but he hinted he thought we might be exaggerating," I stated.

"Because it cuts too close to the truth," Doug intoned.

I gazed at my friend.

"Makin' him stare it in the face is what's happening," Ram interjected.

"Exactly," Doug concurred and gave a curt nod of his head.

Everyone agreed on that point as well. It became the central topic for a few minutes. However, the effects of the large meal began to take over. We lolled in our chairs as the conversation proceeded in fits and starts. It slowly became obvious we could not simply sit at the table and stare at one another. Ram made a motion to the waitress, and then tried to secretly slip her a credit card.

"I don't think so, honey," Stacey said and gazed at the waitress who did not move under such a piercing stare. "That's very kind and generous of you…"

"Miss Stacey, I think I'm the only one sittin' here what got himself a day job. 'Sides, this was my idea, and y'all didn't know what to 'spect, so it's on me," Ram deftly countered.

"Sweetie, I'm a working girl…"

"So am I," Marrow joined in.

We all glanced at her and began to chuckle.

"Oh, go fuck yourselves hard. I didn't mean like that!" She railed at us

"Eric, be a good boy and pass this over to Ram," Stacey said even though she continued to chuckle at Marrow's accidental double entendre. "At least let me get the tip."

Although she tried to be discrete, I noticed the folded one-hundred dollar bill get passed to my boyfriend. When Ram got it, he looked down, frowned for a second, and began to shake his head. I leaned back because I knew the lesson the man would receive from Stacey. She leaned forward.

"Ram, honey, how long do you think it would take me to get every man… every straight man in this place to pile on top of you while I settled the entire check?" Stacey asked in an innocent voice.

I watched as Ram considered her words. After a few second a smile spread across his face. He bobbed his head once at her.

"I take your meanin', Miss Stacey, and I thank'ee," he quietly said.

"I don't know, Ram. I might've gone for the pile of men on me," I quipped and rubbed my foot along the bottom of his.

By the count of three Ram began laughing as hard as my friends. Again we drew stares from the other diners. It seemed they wanted to find out what made us laugh so exuberantly so often. The issue of the food bill seemed settled to everyone's satisfaction. I, for one, could only chip a small amount since I still waited for back pay and my regular salary. Doug, Hector, Ink, Japheth, and Marrow each received a small stipend from the Institute along with free room and board. I rather suspected they felt a bit of relief at the generosity of Ram and Stacey. All in all, the laughter and resolution capped a perfect meal spent with the people I cared about most, save my blood family.

On our way out of the restaurant, the waitress goggled at us when she saw the hundred dollar bill. It took very little for me to conclude Ram paid for the food and drink and left it as a tip. Stacey gave him a none-too-subtle wink of approval. As we made our way through, no one paid us any attention. It felt oddly refreshing to me, and even more so since no one stared at Ram. He held my hand even when we reached the stairs and began our ascent. It the back of my mind, I suspected a long good-bye would take place in the parking lot. It would prove again the quality of my friends.


	12. Chapter 12

The warm air greeted us along with a cloudy sky and the odd glow of the street lights. From the outside no one would suspect one of the finest restaurants in Westchester hid behind the ordinary veneer of the building. It looked like a closed diner and small shop of some sort. I mentally memorized the place and planned to visit at least once a month regardless of how fat it would make me. In the distance the yellow land-bound leviathan of a Cadillac all but pulsed under the street lamps. One would barely notice Ram's dented and dinged Miata parked right next to it. It completely blotted out Eric's car. Our troop aimed in that direction as we chatted merrily among ourselves.

Murphy blazed so fiercely to life it dropped me to my knees. The squeal inside my head became intolerable, and mainly due to the sudden onset. I wrapped my arms around my skull to keep it in one piece. Only Ram knelt beside me to see what caused my abrupt fall. I heard Eric and Japheth asking confused questions, although I could barely understand the words.

"Circle around him," Marrow shouted. "Whatever it is has got to be pretty fucking close!"

I sensed more than saw the presence of my friends as they gathered around me. Their physical proximity seemed to calm Murphy a tiny amount. My head still felt like it wanted to explode, but not like it did during the first few seconds.

"Ted?" Ram begged his question with my name.

"F-F-Fight," I stammered one word since Murphy all but disabled me.

"There! There… what is that?" Doug alerted everyone.

I staggered to my feet with help of Ram. Eric lent an arm to allow me to remain more or less steady. Ram then turned in the direction Doug indicated, and he balled his hands into fists. I gazed at the edge of the parking lot where three small disks of blackness disguised one of the street lights and anything behind it. A dark blue radiance shimmered at the edges to create floating circles. The interior of the spots also began to glow. Then a dark shape began to move around. A rectangle of orange-yellow appeared a third of the way from the other end of the shape. Murphy started to scorch the skin on the back of my head and neck. It made me feel faint.

"Something's triggering Murph," Eric informed others of my condition in a coded form.

"No kidding," Hector said with more acerbity than I ever heard him use with a person.

In an ironic twist, I vomited some of my food. Stacey and Hector danced forward. Ram propped up my right side opposite of Eric.

"What the fuck?" Marrow growled.

I saw her start to squat out of the corner of my eyes. Her hands also disappeared inside of her long jacket. It meant she armed herself. From her rather dainty purse Stacey produced a thin whip, and then threw her purse to the side. Doug and Hector assumed fighting stances. Japheth made a grunting noise. I lifted my head in time to watch four figures approach. Murphy felt like he wanted to detonate. Whoever, or whatever, drew nearer to us triggered him like the Trinity Test.

A strange series of sounds issued forth. After a few seconds, it got repeated. Instinctively I turned my head toward Doug. Hector and Stacey did as well while Marrow, Eric, and Ram remained fixed on the quartet. Japheth groaned a few times. From the one experience in the danger room, I could tell he prepared to unleash Eany and Meany.

"They want the carrier," Doug blurted and sounded uncertain. "The chance carrier?"

Whatever spoke the first time spoke again.

"If we give it to them, they'll leave us alone," my friend translated.

"Give what to them? What the hell is it talking about?" Marrow queried, and she spoke for me as well.

"It wants Ted," Eric slowly intoned. "Chance… odds. He's the carrier of odds. Murphy. They want Murphy."

"Well, they ain't fucking getting him," Marrow defiantly growled.

"Ain't that the truth," Ram said in a flat, hostile voice.

The creature demanding Murphy, and me by extension, spoke again for fifteen seconds. We waited on Doug. His ability astounded me.

"He said they'll take the carrier, kill it if they have to, and us along with it. We've got… some sort of time period to comply," our instant translator intoned, and then glanced around. "I think they're going to kill us either way."

"Not on my watch, sweetie," Stacey purred the words like an electric hiss. Her whip uncoiled and where the tip that touched the ground sparked. She armed herself in very interesting ways.

The eight of us stood and faced the bizarre quartet. They continued to walk, and at least one floated, toward us. Our lives among mutants and the X-Men made the sight seem almost normal. Ram did not even appear surprised. When they stepped into a circle of light from one of the streetlamps, no one needed to say the group hailed from some place far from Earth. They began to spread out when we did not move. Two of them armed themselves. I could only imagine what technology they possessed given they stepped from some sort of interstellar craft.

"Remember what we learned in the Danger Room," Doug stated as we, too, assumed a formation.

My friends arranged themselves in front of me. Flecks of light shown off Eric as he did whatever he needed to do to activate his powers. The tattoos I could see turned much darker and the outlines seemed to shimmer. Two bluish-purple segmented slugs with three red eyes in the center of their blunt heads rested on Japheth's shoulders. They made a clacking, chattering sound as their sharp teeth clicked together. Japheth stroked them like cats. Ram stood between Marrow and Stacey. Marrow did not stand, but leaned forward in her crouch. Stacey looked remarkable composed and, unbelievably, relaxed. Ram appeared as though someone stretched his skin tight over the back of his neck. I saw the seams of his shirt straining. Doug and Hector took up spots on either side of me. In short, we assumed a battle stance.

"Is Murphy going to know who his friends are?" Hector nervously inquired.

"I hope so," I answered through a mouth pulled taut as I struggled to contain the heat and pain reverberating in my head.

The lead being in the advancing quartet spoke again.

"He says we get four… seconds, I think," Doug supplied the meaning for us.

"Fuck that," Marrow grunted, and then she lifted into the air from her position like magic.

Anyone who ever saw the young woman, my friend, in action tended to take on a vastly different opinion of her. She started throwing bone darts at our now enemies while gracefully sailing through the air and turned a perfect somersault before her feet reached the ground. At the same time Stacey sprinted forward while drawing her arm back. The length of whip snaked backward toward her shoulder. Just as quickly it shot forward when it reached full extensions, blue tendrils emanated from the end and lanced toward our opponents. The actions of our two female compatriots seemed to take the foursome off-guard as both some of Marrow's darts stuck along with Stacey's whip shock.

"He's telling them to attack," Doug said nearly as quickly as the leader of the group spoke.

White-blue balls of death rocketed out of the weapon one of the assailants carried. It caused us to flit around and break formation. However, Doug, Hector, and I regrouped as Eric, Japheth, and Ram joined the fray. Japheth's skin turned an eerie gray color, but he seemed otherwise in good shape after releasing the slugs. How or when Eric shed his shirt remained a mystery to me, but the black outlines of wings rose out from his back, and he took flight. I also saw shimmering translucent brightness surround two other tattoos, and I wondered what he planned to unleash. Ram stunned us all when he brazenly knocked the balls of plasma out of their trajectories with his bare hands. His skin looked undamaged.

"Let them go eat, Japheth," I suggested to one of our newest squad members.

Japheth, or more precisely Maggott since he underwent his transformation, laughed and told Eany and Meany to go play.

Our assailants clearly did not make a full accounting of my friends, and their ranks broke as well when Marrow, Stacey, and Ram pressed forward with Eany and Meany flanking either side of them. It appeared Maggott instructed his symbiots on his new team mates. Meany crunched at the ground and disappeared from view while Eany reared upward like a gigantic millipede, his or its jaws snapped and made a rather frightening sound. It seemed unlikely when Ram slid under renewed weapon's fire and made it to the attackers. He punched one of the opponents in the knee area, and it caused the being to stagger while it howled with pain. Our team drew first blood.

After that I lost sight of the battle while the others went into action. I remained vaguely aware Doug and Hector continued to stand at my sides as I mentally wrestled with Murphy. My eyesight blurred slightly from the intensity of the pressure I felt in my skull. That proved to be a first. Mentally I began to weaken because of the overwhelming power of Murphy. I translated the growing energy in my brain as a desire to go forth and wreak havoc. The need to resist setting Murphy free held firm since I did not want to endanger my friends. Bit by bit I became less certain of my hold over a cosmic primal force. Once again I feared what what took shelter in my brain.

"Move!" Doug shouted and shoved me me to the right.

A bight flash exploded on my left side. We got used to training against energy weapons, yet at that moment I realized we, or at least I, always knew it would not kill us. What got aimed at us in that parking lot meant to kill. I could both feel and sense it. The notion received reinforcement by the spray of asphalt gravel hitting my body. The voices of my compatriots shouting orders to one another slipped into my ears. From the sounds of the fight, it appeared our attackers regrouped and launched their own offensive. I fervently hoped the fighters in our group could keep them at bay. I pushed at the ground to lift myself. Something heavy rolled off my legs.

Debris and smoke filled the air. Bright light popped violently into existence around us. Whoever came for me began to show greater fighting skill. Our untested tactics began to falter. Two more shots whizzed by me, burning the air and sizzling as I staggered backward and fell onto my butt. I started to become angry because I realized my friends, my east coast family, put themselves in harm's way for my benefit. A greenish-purple blast of color detonated to the right of my right foot, and I scrambled further backward. Murphy made it increasingly difficult to concentrate let alone think. Instead of battling these new enemies, Murphy forced me to wrestle him over my conscious state. I hated my lack of any command at the moment.

The garish light blossomed to my right again, and a warm spray coated my exposed arm and the side of my face. I reached up to brush it off my cheek, but it caused my fingers to slide against my skin. Then I saw red on my hand. I knew blood when I saw it, and I definitely saw blood. A cold terror seized my guts. With considerable effort I forced my eyes to focus. Instantly half of Hector's body came into view. His lifeless eyes stared upward into the haze caused by the fight. I threw up more of my meal. It flew out of my mouth and cascaded down my chin and chest. Hector lay dead because I could not marshal any control over Murphy. Something snapped inside of me.

Visually I could see chaos flowing and streaming around me. The sounds became a dull noise as it blended together. The air vibrated against my skin as alien and mutant battled it out. The screech of Eany and Meany got lost in mix. The smells sickened me, and mostly because the vomit on my shirt overpowered most others. Yet I could detect the scent of blood and burnt flesh. Those odors crept along the back of my tongue, and the taste of destructive violence swamped my mouth. All told it overwhelmed me, and I lost my fight with Murphy.

A roar I will never be able to described coursed through my brain, and behind it a calm silence trailed. It enveloped me and formed a cocoon. Against all logic I felt safe. I stood while my eyes remained glued to the remains of Hector. Part of my mind said I should cry and mourn one I loved as dearly as my own kin. I strolled forward while one of the slugs tumbled through the air past me. Blue, green, red, and white light lit up the surroundings like an abstract fireworks display. Something soft rolled under my foot. I looked down and saw an arm underfoot. My eyes followed along the limb, and I discovered Doug got killed. It seemed reasonable to assume he pushed me aside and took the full force of the energy blast aimed at me. A tight, overly tight, knot formed in my chest. As with Hector I loved Doug like family, and it would be safe to say a bit more. Over the years I formed numerous crushes on him. It felt like something awful squeezed my chest.

Then the anger arrived.

In the midst of the odd peace I felt rage, and it seemed to gently well up and let itself be known to me. I crooked my left arm and pointed a finger at one of the aliens. I wondered at the odds of how quickly he (or she or it) could blow its own head off with the weapon it aimed at my living friends. Two seconds later I watched as the being stumbled, the barrel of the energy rifle lodged under what I assumed to be a chin, and the weapon fired. The creature's head disappeared in a blossom of brown mist. Two of the other aliens cornered Marrow. New anger joined what I already harbored. I pondered the statistical likelihood that the two could annihilate one another without harming Marrow. Instead of ducking in opposite directions as they shot, only Marrow ducked in the other direction. The weapon in the pudgy hands of the squat, pimpled creature tore the one twenty feet away in half in a greenish-purple burst. Then a hole the size of beach ball appeared in its chest. It slumped to the ground.

"Jesus Christ, he's using Murphy. Back the fuck up!" Eric shouted in an unnaturally loud voice.

A wave of something like an electric feeling swept my right side. I turned and watched as the bug-like, angular being shot something from its hands. It made my body tingle, and immediately I sensed it would kill me if I did not stop it. Thus, I contemplated the probability of how much of its own force it could stand if the creature pressed it appendages against its head. Moments later it did just that. A shriek, alien and terrible and utterly inhuman, filled the air. Light crackled around the limbs. The cry turned into nothing more than a high-pitched whine. Then the head got torn to pieces and fluttered through the air while black drops of a thin liquid rained down around it. The body slumped to the ground.

I turned in a circle and looked at each of my friends. I silently identified them by name. When I got to Ram, I reminded myself he occupied a place in my life a step beyond friendship. Five of them lived, although they appeared much worse for the experience. Then I stared at the two partial bodies of two men, two of my closest friends and compatriots, and my heart broke. I crumpled to the ground and began to weep. The anger that propelled me to act transformed into crushing anguish. I began to collapse into myself. Hands stronger than any I ever felt wrapped around my chest as I heaved with misery. Two more, alluring, soft, and full of promises I did not understand, caressed my face. They lifted my head. I stared into eyes that brimmed with tears and echoed my own sorrow.

"Teddy, sweetie," Stacey said in a voice heavy with grief.

A smaller body pressed against my back, and I felt lips in my neck. Ram pushed me forward into Stacey's embrace. She held me, both of us, and we all gave voice to our pain. Another hand stroked my head.

"They're heroes, Ted," Marrow said, and I could hear she cried as well. "Fuck, they were so brave."

Hearing her talked about Doug and Hector in the past tense crushed me a bit more. I cried so hard it became a silent scream. Eric, Japheth, and the slugs protectively hovered over us as those who knew our departed brethren best became a well of sorrow. In the background I could hear the shouts of people and the wail of approaching sirens. Other voices I recognized in an instant began directing others. The X-Men arrived under the leadership of Scott Summers. He lent order to the chaos, but could not calm the storm in my chest over the loss of my friends. After several minutes while the police tried to enter the area, arms of lustrous silver and abundant strength picked up Marrow, Ram, Stacey, and me as one bundle. I felt myself float through the air in an almost loving embrace. Together we got taken away from the scene of the battle.

The next ten hours remain a fuzzy mix in my memories. We returned to the mansion. People spoke at me, some yelled, and those who would not leave me be lost their voice. As I climbed the stairs to the living quarters, a feat I could not accomplish on my own without Ram's support, I sensed a presence trying to edge into my mind. After a blunt yell echoed up the stairwell, it stopped. Ram and I went to my room. I fell onto the bed. He wrapped himself around half of me. Then the darkness came. I never wanted to leave it.

For the next thirty-six hours I either slept or sat amid the grieving company of my friends. Eric and Japheth often stopped in, bringing us food and drink, and shared in our collective sorrow. We barely spoke fifteen words between us during that time. Ram, despite the danger it presented to him, refused to leave my side, and I loved him all the more for his solid presence. Sometimes I caught Stacey looking at us, and a soft little smile would play on her lips. At one point Marrow held my hand for three straight hours. That contact told me much as I felt her fingers curl and flex around mine. I could tell she found it hard to fight the absolute disdain she felt toward most of people. She did not need to tell me how much emptier he life would become without Doug and Hector. I knew it because I faced the same. The four of us quietly shared in a loss. Surprisingly, the professor and the other gave us that time to ourselves.

"Ted?" Scott's carefully modulated voice said my name as his head peeked around the door when he opened it without permission.

Three days passed since the fight. Stacey took her leave of the mansion the night before. Marrow buried herself in her room. Eric and Japheth would check on me twice a day, each without the other knowing they carried out the same act. Ram stayed with me. Lying his arms, hearing him whisper, and just feeling him next to me anchored me in reality. The strangest aspect arrived in that I never heard a peep from Murphy. I could sense him lurking in the background, but he never went on alert.

I felt Ram tense where he lay next to me when Scott spoke. He could not see the door as I could, so I stroked his arm and raised my head. I looked at one of the few X-Men I respected. He seemed somber.

"I know you don't want to, but… we need to debrief," he said, nearly apologetically inquired, and I could sense the steadiness of his gaze behind the ruby quartz lenses.

"When?" I asked in return.

"Can you be ready in an hour?"

I nodded.

"Ram?" Scott said the name of my boyfriend. "We'd like you take part. We heard you were instrumental in the confrontation."

I glanced at Ram, nodded a little, and he said: "Sure. I'll be there."

His dark eyes smoldered with a range of emotions I could not untangle.

"I'll send someone up when it's time," Scott graciously offered and edged his head out of sight.

The door closed with a click.

"If'n they says one thing I don't like 'bout them…"

"You'll have to beat Murphy," I interjected.

Ram narrowed his eyes and used that to ask the question.

"I'm not in control of him anymore. Not that I ever really was, but he's free. I can… I just know it."

"So what does that mean for y'all… everyone else?" My boyfriend inquired.

"I don't know," I freely confessed. "But I do know he did whatever I asked him to do… not really like he took a command, but… Ram, if I thought it, Murphy made it happen."

"Like them folks who quit talkin' at y'all when we got here?"

I nodded. Ram again proved he missed very little despite his height disadvantage. I ran my hand down the side of his head. His black hair felt slick, but not oily. He leaned his head into the caress.

"That was him what beat those strange fellas, wasn't it? 'Cause it sure as shit wasn't gonna be us who stopped 'em. They had them some pretty powerful weapons, Ted," Ram confirmed what I already suspected. "It was like it all done just went wrong for 'em all at once."

"That's how Murphy operates," I confirmed for him. My chest started to tighten as I considered the full implications. "If I set him… free… sooner…"

The tears spilled out of my eyes before I could stop it. Ram leaned forward and pressed his lips on mine while I took a shuddering breath. I held him close, and he nearly broke several of my ribs when he returned the hug. During the two days we spent secluded in my room, I never once thought about sex. My body, however, started to react in that moment. Ram held me tighter until I started to wheeze, and not just as a symbolic gesture.

"Sorry," he muttered and loosened his hold without letting go. "Boy, y'all sure do pick some funny times to…"

"It's not 'cause I'm horny, Ram," I slowly told him. "It's 'cause I'm sad… and tore up inside and… 'cause I'm really falling in love with you. It's everything that happened. I…"

He kissed me again with his wonderfully full lips. I began to calm the longer he held it, and he slowly wrapped his arm around my neck to draw me closer. He did not pull away when we paused.

"I like hearin' y'all say that," Ram whispered into my mouth. "Ain't been a whole lot of boys what done said that to me and meant it like you do. Can I tell y'all something and maybe y'all won't come undone on me?"

"No promises on that, Ram," I honestly rejoined.

"I'd a fought 'em to the death for you, Ted. I'd a taken your boys' places if'n I could knowin' what they meant to y'all. Hector and Doug was good, fine people. Y'all pickin' them as friends of yours tells me a whole lot of what I need to know 'bout you."

"And you don't think you getting killed wouldn't've wrecked me just as much?" I replied and started to choke up.

He kissed me for a third time before I could say anything further, and still he kept his face pressed to mine when it ended. Our eyes, so close together, locked. Ram's dark orbs held mine in a steady gaze. He seemed to stare through me as though he could suss out all the secrets of my life.

"I mightn't have know 'em much or long, but… Ted, the way them boys gathered up 'round you said what they felt toward y'all… and it was a lot," my boyfriend said with complete conviction in his voice. "I'm thinking they loved you a whole lot in their own way. Y'all believed in 'em 'nough to let 'em go out fightin' 'stead of sitting 'round wonderin' if'n they was good 'nough for anything. Givin' those boys purpose gave them reason to stand with you and die with y'all if'n it came to it. Y'all let 'em be X-Men, Ted, real and true."

Ram meant his words to be encouraging and soothing, but they produced an opposite effect. Doug and Hector did care for me as I cared for them. They trusted me regarding the plan to make a new team where we all played a role. I convinced them Murphy would protect them if the situation went sideways or south. The aliens in the parking lot of the restaurant took it both ways, and Murphy and I failed my friends. Doug and Hector died because I could not control Murphy. Only when I completely abandoned all pretenses that I could exert any influence over the primal focus did it begin to operate as I long promised. Except the fulfillment of that promise came too late. It took the death of two of my closest friends to make it happen. The price ran too high for me to accept. I leaned into Ram and began to weep again as the truth crashed through me. My boyfriend held me.

We lay in silence as I cried myself out for the umpteenth time during those days. Ram did not condemn me. He did not tell me to be of stout heart. The short man offered no useless platitudes. Ram simply allowed me to physically express my sadness and shame. Moreover, I did not feel he judged me. He witnessed the events, and he did not condemn me my actions or lack thereof. It afforded me the room to try and clear some of my head before I went to stand before Charles and the others. When the knock came at the door, a mindless dread filled me. Ram, however, again provided me the strength that went missing the moment.

"Come on, Ted," he quietly said and held out hand. "Let's go and get this done and over, and then we can get the hell out of here for a spell."

I took his hand. Even though he could throw me across the room and quite possibly through the wall, Ram did nothing more than offer me support as I stood. He did not relinquish my hand as we walked across the room. The person on the other side knocked again.

"We're on our way," I said in a thick voice and with more testiness than I intended.

"I'll let them know," the small voice of a young student said, and then footfalls quickly moved away from the door.

When we got to the entryway, Ram stopped. Since he continued to hold my hand I stopped as well. He regard me for a moment.

"Ted, don't let them tell y'all who you is. Don't let 'em drag ya down saying y'all should've done this or done that. We did what we could. They got us unaware fair and square," he told me in a firm tone. "I know y'all are feeling really low 'bout them two, but don't let these folks use it again' you. Promise y'all'll shut 'em right up if'n they try to tear ya down!"

My head bobbed once. Ram held up my hand and kissed it. I hoped I could live up to the promise. With that we exited the room. Few students meandered the hallways at that time of evening since they would attend classes the next day. Although I chalked it up to my imagination, it seemed as though the house mourned the loss of Doug and Hector with us. The death of any X-Men, regardless of status, tended to shake everyone. That two died in an ambush would magnify effect. Throughout the trek to Charles' office, those we did pass in the halls did not look at us. Ram and I drifted like ghosts through the corridors.

"Enter," Charles said when we knocked on the sliding partition door.

We did as bid. Aside from the headmaster of the house, Scott, Ororo, and Hank sat around the coffee table. Two armchairs waited empty for us. Ram and I strolled in after I closed the doors. We took our seats. The air hung heavy with too many possibilities. It made me edgy. Ram stared at the middle of table where a pot of tea waited with several empty cups surrounding it.

"Would you care for some tea, Mister Darby? Ted?" Charles asked and used it to break the ice.

We both declined.

"Yes, well, then," the man said and shifted in his wheelchair. "We are all, each of us, saddened and stunned by the loss of Messers Ramsey and Rendoza. Doug wielded a particularly intricate gift, and Hector proved one of kindest men I ever met. They will be missed."

I joined Ram at staring at the coffee table.

"Mister Darby, it's been reported to me that you served quite valiantly during skirmish with the alien hunters."

"Just kept 'em busy 'til Ted got Murphy sorted out. He's the one who took 'em low," Ram replied.

"Perhaps, but do not discount the fact you physically swatted aside energy blasts. That is truly remarkable and a talent we've not seen before," the profess continued and heaped on more praise.

"Not like y'all didn't have a chance to find out for yourselves."

I heard the resentment in Ram's voice, and I agreed with him.

"I see. Perhaps in the future we can revisit the topic," the professor half-mumbled.

My boyfriend shot him a look. It got the attention of Ororo and Hank. I could not tell what Scott thought of the exchange. We sat in awkward silence for a quarter of a minute.

"Perhaps we best address the elephant in the room and discuss the attack," Charles gracelessly switched subjects. "Stacey and Marrow, along with Eric and Japheth, gave us their reports on the incidents and several interesting facts stood out."

"What? Like the fact that group came hunting for me?" I grumbled before I could think better of it.

"Yes, that is one issue. I've been in contact with Brightstorm, and, based on the description of the remains, he assures me the group you eliminated were rather formidable. You've given the other hunters notice you'll not be so easily… retrieved."

I shook my head a little at his bizarre phrasing.

"This lesson came at high cost, did it not, Mr. Johnson?"

"Oh, no, no, and fucking no," I refuted his underlying assumption as anger blossomed in my brain. "I did not attack those people. They came after me, and don't try to fucking tell me it's my fault…"

"But you were warned…"

"I did nothing wrong!" I shouted and stood up. Ram jumped to his feet as well. "They attacked me. Those… things were criminals and you can't blame me for what they decided to do. We were the fucking victims, Charles, or can't you get that through your shiny head?"

He frowned at my reference to his baldness. I saw pictures of him from his youth, and he once sported a rather luxurious head of hair. I saw one of his eyebrows twitch.

"We told you not to mess with…" Hank began to say.

"Fuck right off, Hank. Shut your mouth or I will shut it for you!" I rounded on him

His fur literally stood up and I heard a small growl.

"Ted, I understand your emotions are running high, but we need to discuss this matter," Charles intervened and tried to sound reasonable.

"Two of my best friends get slaughtered and you want to fucking blame it on me? Where were those goddamn Luminals? Huh? How come they weren't roaming around keeping an eye on those bastards?"

Charles blinked. I caught him at his own game. He liked to reinvent the playing field so he could serve whatever lesson he though someone deserved. I, unfortunately for him, would not play that game. I spent three days mourning my friends. Despite the emotional part of my brain wanting to assume responsibility for the attack, I knew full well those creatures violated me and my friends.

"You were specifically instructed not to interfere with the Focus of Probability taking refuge in your mind!" He snapped and came close to yelling.

"You are such a hypocrite, Charles, and anyone who sides with you is just as bad," I said and slumped down in the chair.

I noticed Hank and Ram continued to eye one another. If a fight broke out between them, Hank would lose because I would not let him win. I wondered if he remembered that point. After a few seconds, Ram sat down as well.

"Why do you say he's a hypocrite, Ted?" Scott queried, and I made note of the way he worded his interrogatory.

"Because he uses his power all the time. He fucks with people's minds every chance he gets and never thinks about the real consequences of it. I don't see him not using his power? Why is that, Chucky? Why don't you just leave your telepathic abilities alone?" I responded and shifted the spotlight.

"My power doesn't have the ability to destroy the planet," he countered and straightened out his vest.

"No, just all the minds on the planet. Didn't someone almost get you to do that? So how is that any different from what's in my head?"

I watched as his features settled in a near sneer. Once again the man forgot I spent three years reading every mission report on which I could lay my hands simply to drive back the boredom of being sequestered in the basement. Thus, it seemed logical to extend the scenario based on what I knew to be true.

"Scott could walk around cutting everyone in half. Ororo could fry us all with lighting or drown us with rain. Hank could stroll down the street and shred everyone," I said and they looked angered I viewed their abilities as weapons. "It's all of us, Charles. I'm not the only world-ending power in this house, and you know it. So stop giving me shit about setting Murphy lose because you're just as lethal."

"In theory you are correct, but it is a matter of degree, Theodo…"

I theorized on the odds of an event, and the batteries in his wheelchair exploded. It threw him out of chair and debris chased him as he sailed by. Hank, in a truly impressive maneuver, leaped through the air and saved the professor from hitting the wall. Ororo and Scott jumped to their feet, and each adopted a fighting stance. Ororo glanced at me.

"Neither of you would be fast enough," I said to her unasked question.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Hank yelled at me as he returned with Charles.

"Nothing. Why can't Charles remember what name I prefer? Maybe you should ask what the hell is wrong with him."

My grief at the loss of Doug and Hector transmogrified further into raw rage at the suggestion I caused their deaths. The logical part of my mind rejected any and all notions I bore one iota of responsibility. Time and again the senior staff of the house attempted to place the onus of Murphy's capabilities on my shoulders. Now that he ran free in my mind, I no longer accepted that burden. The smell of high-tech batteries as the reactive agents melted into the floor filled the room. I sat still. Ram looked like a statue.

"This is why you are danger to everyone, Mister Johnson. You cannot control the Focus," Charles told me in a haughty manner as though the debate got settled.

"Um, no," I said and shook my head. "I considered the odds of your chair batteries detonating."

Stunned silence rang in the room.

"Murphy is free to follow my suggestions or not. They are insignificant motes in the spectrum of what it does every nanosecond of every day. I don't even matter to it… except the odds of keeping me alive work better in its favor. It's just math. We're all just microscopic variables in an insanely large equation."

Even Ram gave me a strange look.

After giving him a quick scan, I returned my gaze to those in the room. They looked at me with suspicion. I looked at them with loathing, save Scott.

"I have no power. I know that. We all know it. This… Focus in my head does what it wants. It has to. It must ignore me for the most part… except when I'm threatened. That's what makes me the real Oddity in the room," I stated my firm belief as I surveyed the others. "I'm part of the probability equation as well except I got one one-hundredth of a quintillion more in my favor than you do when it comes to the Focus."

"And that's what you think protects you?" Hank scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"Ninety-nine point nine, nine, nine, nine, nine, nine… and a couple more dozen nines to then it's easier for Murphy to stay put and do it's job. If that means keeping my ass alive, then what does it matter if it spends one hundred billion, billion, billionth of its power to do so. It's sibling, the law of averages, probably worked it out. It's just math."

The reaction of Charles and Hank told me I hit the nail right on the head. In the moment when I saw my dead friends and relinquished any sense of control I believed I possessed over Murphy, I saw our place in the universe with crystal clarity. Doug and Hector's lives meant next to nothing in the universe except they factored into it somewhere. The relative insignificance of our existences did not stop the fact we alter the quantum fabric of the universe by that very existence. That epiphany freed both Murphy and me. Hence, I simply needed to think it, and Murphy would carry it out just to shut me up.

"Th… Ted, you have no real idea what you are doing," Charles said, and it sounded like begging.

"Ah, go fuck yourself, Charles. I know exactly what I am doing. I know what Murphy needs to operate. Jesus, the damn thing's lived in my head for over two decades," I countered. Then I stood up. "I'm not going to debate this with you any more. I'm moving out today…"

Charles, Hank, and Ororo visibly tensed. Scott slowly shook his head as if he warned them this could happen, and it saddened him. Anger still pumped through me, but I ignored it.

"I'm too sad to stay here. All I'll end up doing is missing Doug and Hector every day, and then I'll just be angry all the time. And because I hate most of you, you'll be facing Oddity instead of Ted."

Hank's face froze into a frown. I loathed Hank McCoy. However, I did not think of any specific odds regarding him. Therein lay the real locus of my control regarding Murphy: it would ignore me until I became agitated and started using too much of my brain.

"I'm going to stay with Ram," and I glanced at him while a grin took shape on his face. "If I spot any X-Men spying on me in any way… if any of you interfere with my life, you'll simply cease to exist. That's the idea Charles planted in my head."

Ororo gasped. The professor set his face like a stone statue. Hank rolled his eyes again.

"So we're your enemies now?" Scott quietly questioned me.

"No, not really. Well, Hank is my enemy, but I just want the rest of the X-Men to stay away from me and leave me alone. I don't belong here. I tired of feeling like a captive. I'm tired of being lied to all the time. Hector, Doug, and Marrow were the only ones who ever made me feel welcome… 'cept you, Scott, but then you left."

"I needed to grow, too, Ted."

"I know," I replied and gave him a small smile. He acknowledged something the professor never did. In my heart of hearts I knew Scott Summers to be my friend.

"Ted," Charles said and stammered my name a bit. "This is ill-advised. You've already been attacked once. It will certainly happen again. Other than the Focus, you have no special abilities."

"Bullshit, Baldy," Ram blurted.

All eyes, mine included, turned to him.

"Y'all just think it's an x-gene what makes ya special. Ya miss what's right in front of your damn eyes. Six folk… seven of us were willing to put our lives on the line for him. We all had different reasons, but we all did it. I'd do it again for him. I'm pretty damn sure there's four others what'd join in. If'n that ain't an ability, then ain't nothing a power," the short man intoned with a voice of authority.

"Perhaps your opinion is a bit skewed," Charles dismissively stated.

"Maybe no one done loved you like that, shithead, and you's just jealous," Ram spat in return.

A tortured pun played in my head as I watched Charles scowl at my boyfriend, so I said: "It's a Mystique… I mean mystery, isn't it?"

My words hit home and I saw real anger on the professor's face. I learned through reading old reports that Professor Xavier tended to believe submission to his control equaled love in his mind. I knew people, other X-Men respected him and, in too many cases, worshiped him, but I do not think anyone actually loved him with pure intent. Doug, Hector, and I loved one another without any other intent or ulterior motive. The same held true for Marrow and Stacey. Over time I felt Eric and Japheth would reach the same level. However, I saw in the faces of those gathered around the table that The Unwanted came to an end. With it my time at the mansion also came to an end.

More importantly I realized they could no longer stop me. None of them knew how to fight Murphy, and threatening me simply meant facing the wrath of a fundamental cosmic force. I, through the horrible tragedy of losing two of my most beloved friends, at last understood my relationship with Murphy. I also knew my place in the universe, and I felt myself disappear into nothing as I considered it. That knowledge gave me the power to leave without any reservation.


	13. Chapter 13

I packed what few things belonged to me, mostly clothes and small keepsakes, and I left the mansion. Someone delivered Ram's car to the parking lot while we sat in my room and mourned. Thus, I got to ride out in style. Marrow never showed before I left, and that worried me. She would become erratic and violent, I felt certain, if she felt alone and isolated. Ink and Maggott wished me well and asked to stay in touch. I gave a weak promise I would try. Afterward I departed from the mansion without talking to another soul, although several people watched me depart with blank looks on their faces.

Passing out of the gates of the Institute felt like passing out of the gates of hell. During the ride I called my sister and brother. I told them I would be staying at a new location and would send the address soon. We chatted while the wind blew around me. Mary could sense something other cause behind my call, but she withheld from inquiring. Jim babbled at me about what I might be doing. I finally confessed I would be living with my boyfriend, and the stunned silence gave way to congratulations. The weirdness of my parents brought on by meeting Charles Xavier overshadowed my sexuality with them, and it simply became a fact of life. As we drove down the tree-lined lane toward the main road, I caught a smirk on Ram's face as he listened to the conversation. It ended before we got to his house.

I learned the house operated on a democratic basis. Before I moved in any of my belongings, he called for a house meeting. Calls went out, and we waited for three hours before enough members arrived to convene quorum. We gathered around the enormous and very used dining room table. It could easily seat twelve or fourteen people. Once seated, they looked at me for a little bit. Most knew me already, and it stood to reason everyone at heard about me. I faced a group of mutants who stood in judgment of me in the past, yet this time it felt very important. Ram, as the titular head of the house, faced his friends and housemates.

"I know y'all heard 'bout that fight we had over at the restaurant," Ram began and he frowned at the memory. "Lost two fine folk, two of Ted's closest friends, and Xavier and the others tried holding him responsible for it."

A dark murmur went around the table. The five others, one did not show, who gathered for the meeting did not seem to hold the X-Men in high regard. Already aware of their opinion, I did not want to play on that angle. I wanted to be accepted on my own merit and not because of a communal dislike of the Institute.

"I'll tell y'all honest right now Ted's got him a power greater 'an all of ours… probably put together. He knows how to use it now, too. I saw what he can do and – phew-whee – it was somethin' to see, I'll tell you that," my boyfriend said with combined awe and pride.

"So that was you?" Tanner, a thin man with wispy blond hair and a sharply angled face, asked. "I was there. Saw the fight. They were kicking your asses…"

"Then you saw what happened to Hector and Doug?" I interjected.

"The two that got killed? Yeah. Them guys was using some pretty high-tech stuff," the man affirmed. "But then they just started killing themselves and each other. You did that?"

"The power in my head did. We call it Murphy. It's… it can change the laws of probability in a split second," I explained even though I thought most already knew about the thing in my noggin.

"So you're not a mutant?" A Hispanic woman they called Nina queried.

"No. No x-gene."

"Don't take no damn x-gene to make a mutant," Ram interjected, "and y'all know that. And y'all know me and him is together, so what I'm askin' is if'n he can move in here with me."

"Is he working?" Casey questioned. She looked at me and nodded.

"I just finished my CPA exams. I'm pretty sure I passed, so I'll be getting a job within a week. I'm an accountant…"

Tanner snorted.

"And I can pull down a decent salary, so I'm more than willing to chip in my fair share," I stated even though the rest smirked at the man.

"Money ain't the real issue," my boyfriend again interceded. "The real problem is them aliens what came after us ain't gonna be the last."

"Who the fuck did you piss off?" Mikey drolly inquired.

"It's that Murphy in his head they're after. See, what Ted's got in him…"

"'Sides you?" Tanner quipped.

The house members started laughing. Even I gave a grin. More than once our sexual sessions got us yelled at because we became very loud. The atmosphere in the dining room felt congenial. The dented and dinged wainscoting, faded wallpaper, patches of plaster on the walls, and the irregularly stained ceiling gave it a homey presence one never experienced in the polished and posh dining room at the mansion. The laughter added just the right touch to make it even more appealing to me.

"Yeah, yeah, 'sides me," Ram agreed and chuckled. "Murphy is part of the universe, and I ain't talking no ordinary thing, either. It's… important. It does things for the everything so's it can work right. Dammit, I'm fucking this up. Ted?"

"You deserve to know so you can make an informed decision," I said as a preamble, and paused for a second. "Murphy is what is called the Focus of Probability. It calculates the odds of anything happening for everything in the universe down to the quantum level, and I think even deeper than that. It's part of the fabric of the universe. A fundamental part."

Half of the house members looked skeptical. I could not blame them. However, one voice piped up.

"No shit," Tanner said in a whisper, his amber eyes looked like saucers. "So… the law of probability is stuck in your head?"

I nodded, and so did Ram.

"Holy shit!" Tanner exclaimed and raised a fist to his mouth as though to block bad vapors from entering. "Holy fucking shit!"

"Tanner?" Nina asked a question with his name.

"So… hold on, does that mean it's going to effect what happens in this house?" Tanner ignored her and focused on me.

"Not like you mean it," I answered him.

A solidly built black man with close-cropped hair, short beard, and intense dark eyes who I never heard speak before said: "How does he mean it, Ted?"

"Well, I… we haven't really met."

"Oh, yeah. I'm Joel. They call me Heavy Set," Joel told me. "I know who you… well, I've heard you before… and heard about you. Casey says you're okay."

"Thanks," I said to Casey with a nod of my head.

Half her mouth rose in a smile as she shrugged and then asked: "So what did Tanner mean?"

"He wants to know if Murphy will affect the laws of probability on a local basis. The short answer is no with a but, and the long answer is yes with an if. The question raises some pretty hairy quantum equations, but generally Murph won't effect the local odds other than what he normally does," I answered in a rather circuitous and cryptic fashion.

The housemates glanced at each other. I could not tell if they truly understood what I explained or if they simply did not care all that much. In truth they need not worry.

"So, who were you fighting the other day?" Nina asked when the silence lingered.

"A group of… I think bounty hunters. They wanted me and Murphy," I said and stared at the table top.

"Or just wanted to kill him to set Murphy free if'n he wasn't going to do what they wanted," Ram filled in the blanks I left.

"Shit," Tanner drawled the word.

"Who here doesn't have at least two organizations trying to kill him… or her?" Mikey asked and amended.

Everyone's hand went up except for mine and Ram's.

"Light weights," Tanner grunted through a grin. "I've got The Brotherhood, Night Dwellers, and Caisson gunning for me."

"Subhumans, The Wretched, No Returns, and Facers," Mikey rattled off his list.

"Subhumans, Marks, Aisa Coven," Casey added.

"Most of them got it in for me," Joel intoned and glanced around at his house mates.

"Don't get me started," Nina groaned and rolled her eyes. "I can't go back to New Mexico or Arizona… or Oklahoma."

"We ain't talking 'bout groups, folks," Ram quietly said. "What we mean is a category of groups. Bounty hunters like he said. This could be hundreds of different aliens from all over."

I glanced at Ram. We only talked in very brief and circumspect terms regarding what I might be facing. However, he extrapolated in a logical direction. I slowly nodded my head in agreement.

"Can you stop 'em?" Tanner inquired and raised his almost invisible eyebrows. He reminded me of a malnourished and impish Doug.

"I think so. I just got to be able to figure out where they might be so I know where to direct Murphy," I answered.

"Not much different from the rest of us," Casey quipped. She ran a hand through her fine, black hair that looked remarkably similar to Ram's.

"Are the Xers one of the groups we got to worry about?" Joel questioned.

"I don't think so. I pretty much told 'em I would get Murphy to erase any of them who messed with me… except for a couple of who are still my friends," I replied.

"In," Joel said on the heels of my answer.

"Yeah, in. In like a motherfucker," Tanner agreed. He gradually started to remind me of Marrow as well.

Mikey nodded his head, but he shot a wary looked at both Ram and me.

"We'll keep it down," I quietly responded to his salient concern.

"He's cool. In," Casey firmly stated.

"He's gonna make a salary. Jesus, in," Nina remarked.

"Welcome to the house, Ted," Ram said. "Oh, and y'all don't call him by his given name. Things go to shit pretty fast when folks do that."

"Just Ted?" Tanner asked while a wicked smirk played on his lips.

"Or Oddity. I picked that as my code name," I informed him and the others.

"Good name," the rakish man crooned the words, and I realize I would need to deal with Tanner in a very different manner than the others.

Not long after I moved into my new home and into the room of my boyfriend. We hauled my belongings in, and Zandy, the one who missed the house meeting but arrived ten minutes after we ended it, said homeless people moved around with more stuff. A tall, willowy woman with a pronounced Jamaican accent watched as Ram and me carried in my few boxes. In his quarters he made room in his dresser and small closet. When we finished we lay on his bed and made out. It all felt so new and strange, and yet I began to feel comfortable in short order. The house mates knew me as Ram's boyfriend, they heard about the battle with the alien hunters, and none of it seemed to phase them.

The sense of home I felt in Ram's arms unlocked something within me. In a flash it hit me I would never see Doug or Hector again. Tears leaked out of my eyes. Ram kissed my face. He held me.

"Gonna hurt for a long while," he whispered to me. "Only hurts like this when y'all really care for a person."

Although I grew sick of weeping over the past three days, stopping it seemed out of the question. My grief felt hot and raw. His strong arms offered me a place of safety where I could be this vulnerable. I believe Murphy understood in some fashion what Ram increasingly grew to mean to me. The past three days cemented my love for him. The turmoil of my life did not drive him away or scare him. I admired the small man on so many levels. I found comfort and solace with him. Moreover, I hoped I would be able to do the same for him. We lay in silence just to be together.

Once I managed to get myself collected, we spent the rest of the day organizing his room to accommodate two people. It would be a tight squeeze even with the paltry amount of items I brought with me. Ram grew impatient with the size of his bed, closet, and dresser. Several time he disappeared down one of the halls on the second floor. He would return mumbling to himself about dimensions. I never pressed the issue. Periodically one or another of the housemates would stop by to see my progress on settling in. To a person each mention the tight confines of the room, and this made Ram frown and mumble some more. I said it did not matter.

That evening we ordered Chinese delivery. When it arrived we huddled on the beat up yet oddly comfortably sofa and watched television. It made me feel exceptionally normal. Television for the sake of simple entertainment usually got discouraged at the Institute mansion. Documentaries and news typically dominated the screen. Attempts at satisfying the tastes of a couple of dozen people always proved problematic at best. Thus, I watched very little real television for the past three and a half years. Granted, studies and work tended to eat up a lot of my time, and then later with training. That night in somewhat worn house with the somewhat worn furniture with people making a real effort to turn their lives in a different direction seemed more at home than I felt since leaving San Diego. The best part came when Ram and I decided to call it a night and go to bed. We did nothing more than snuggle and fall asleep. It seemed perfect.

The next day I spent the morning going through local newspapers and searching on-line for a new position. I polished my resume as best I could on Ram's old laptop. I submitted it to several job postings that looked promising. I hoped the professor would be honest with whomever called to confirm my work at the Institute. He could not deny I put the Institute's financial books in order, albeit some of them in a code I concocted for my own purposes. The housemates treated me well during the day while Ram went off to his job. Casey mentioned several times I concentrated harder behind a computer than anyone she knew. I took it as a compliment of sorts.

When my boyfriend returned, he showered and I waited for him in the room. I reported on my activities of the day, including a rather rosy outline on the job prospects, when Ram came back clad only in a towel. I watched him finish drying off and marveled at his naked body. His construction work kept him in excellent condition, but he told me again part of his mutation graced him with his physique. It did not matter one bit to me where he got it. Before he could dress, I let him know how much I appreciated him in every way I could imagine at the moment. Ram seemed pleased by my display, and I felt fulfilled. We lay naked in bed staring into each others eyes, kissing when the mood took us, and just enjoyed the sense of closeness. My wounded emotions, deeply wounded, gradually began to heal.

A knock at the door arrived sometime later, and then Casey's voice said: "We're going down to The Royal Schooner for fish and beer. Want to go?"

I gazed at Ram, and I could see he wanted to go. I nodded. He smiled.

"Yeah. Give us a minute. Thanks," he answered for both of us.

"In five at the table," Casey stated.

"This is kind of their way of saying welcome y'all," said my boyfriend.

"These seem like really good people, Ram, no matter what they did in the past," I replied in a thick voice.

"Had a few bad ones come through, but the crew we got now is pretty solid. I trust 'em, and I can tell they like ya."

Ram hopped out of bed. In a growing tradition, he offered me his hand and held it while I got out of the bed. We hurriedly got dressed. Then he held my hand again and did not let it go when we went to the door, moved out into the hall, down the worn steps, through the living room, and into the dining room. All save Nina gathered around the large dining table.

"Nina is heading over to Ramon's first. They might meet us at The Schooner later," Joel told the group.

"Think you guys are loud? You should hear when Nina and Ramon fuck. It's like the Battle of the Alam…" Tanner began to say until a thin black-skinned arm jabbed him in the ribs.

"Shut your fool white-trash mouth," Zandy rounded on him, and her accent made the statement commanding. "Just 'cause no lady or man will lay with you doesn't mean you should be talking down about others!"

"Oh, know those nights when I don't come home?" The man asked while rubbing his side.

"Give it up," Joel rumbled and barged between them. "Let's go. I'm hungry."

"When aren't you?" Tanner quipped.

"You're an asshole," Casey mumbled, but I did not hear any real ire in her voice.

Tanner chuckled and followed in Joel's wake. Almost as if ordained, we walked in single file toward the front door. Ram and I formed the caboose of the train. Once we got to the main sidewalk, at which point I realized we would walk to the bar, small pairings formed. Casey and Zandy walked side-by-side, and they made for an interesting visual since Zandy stood at least a foot taller. In the same vein, Joel and Tanner looked odd because of their differences in size. Mikey walked in front of Ram and me. Ram really seemed to like holding my hand, and we did so since arriving outside.

"What do ya think, Mikey?" Ram asked his housemate.

"'Bout what?" Mikey countered without turning his head around.

"'Bout any of this?"

"Won't be a problem 'les he gets us killed," the man before us said in a bland fashion.

"I'll try not to," I said in the same tone.

Mikey chuckled at my delivery and partial impersonation of him.

"So, like, whatever that is in you really is a basic part of the universe?"

Ram and I sped up so we walked next to Mikey. I nodded when he glanced at me.

"Does it hurt?" He asked.

"No, can't feel Murphy 'til something triggers him, and then I get this loud… I guess sound in my head and the back of my neck gets really hot. The only time it ever hurts if I try to get in his way and stop him from doing whatever it is it wants to do," I explained.

"Does it talk to you?"

At that point the other roommates shut up and started listening to our chat. I spoke louder as I described what I thought Murphy to be: not a living thing in any traditional sense, but something closer to a meta-subconscious entity that worked all the time. I reiterated the point I could not feel or sense Murphy unless I felt threatened, and then it worked to preserve its current vessel: me.

"So what power you got then, Ted?" Zandy inquired, and I developed a crush on the way she said her vowels.

"Basically the ability to get out of Murphy's way and think up ways for it to direct it's power," I answered as honestly as I could.

Our troop continued to walk along. They all knew the way, and I simply followed along. Ram did not relinquish my hand at any time. His fingers wiggled around mine, and I wiggled mine right back. His presence stabilized me. He felt real, and I needed that. They continued to pepper me with basic questions about Murphy and what I could do with it. It seemed incongruous to all but Nina when I freely admitted I truly could not control Murphy and it just did what I asked because it proved the path of least resistance. We turned corners and I lost my sense of direction while I spoke. Ram, however seemed to know exactly where we headed.

"Head for Poillon. St. Johns is a pain in the ass," Mikey said right in the midst of a discussion about how Brightstorm contacted me.

We by-passed one street and continued toward Poillon Drive. Just before we needed to turn left, a figure stepped out from behind a small clump of trees. Murphy started whistling in my head. Ram released my hand as he watched me.

"Trouble up there," he told his housemates.

For a mere second the others glanced at me as I winced from Murphy's reaction. We halted. The seven of us watched in silence as the person walked toward us. It only took a moment to note the odd gate and the fact the knees bent backward. The street lamps overhead flickered and went out. It seemed whatever approached preferred the dark. Murphy growled and whined like an angry badger. Mentally I retreated from the sound and tried to objectively observe the situation. Finally, a being as tall as Zandy, as thin as Tanner, but as gray as ash faced us. Too many eyes dotted the face, and the mouth formed a small hole where a nose would normally reside. It aimed a device at us.

To my utter amazement, none of Ram's housemates reacted. Joel shook his head and made a tutting noise. Casey and Tanner snickered in unison. I looked at Ram, and he wore the most viscous grin I ever saw on a person. He balled his hands and I got to witness the physical change as he transmogrified into Hammerfist.

A series of grunts and whistles got aimed at us. The being banged the side of the device. It barked and hissed. The thing banged on it some more until a soft series of crackles emerged.

"Gives us the Focus," the box translated.

"Buddy, you picked the wrong day and the wrong time to get in my way. I'm hungry," Joel grunted.

I heard a cracking sound. The pavement under his feet began to buckle. Tanner raised his hands. Then Ram stepped forward a little, his hands also held up.

"Ted, think Oddity can do his trick?" He asked without looking at me.

I appreciated the manner in which he separated me from my conjoining with Murphy. I stared at the being who also raised a weapon of some sort and aimed it a Joel. My brain when into action. I glanced at the trees behind the creature. It took barely a second to ponder the successful chances for the biggest tree to fall and crush the being waylaying us. Two seconds later as loud cracking sound erupted from the tiny copse of trees. One tree, the largest and it looked like a medium sized oak, began to topple. The being turned and tried to back up. I thought it a good likelihood it would trip on a lip of cement. The figure did and fell onto what I assumed to be its bottom. Then it let out a gargling scream as the oak finished its fall and landed squarely on top of the alien. We all heard the pop and squish.

"Someone go git that thing's weapons," Ram calmly instructed.

"How do we know that… thing is dead?" Casey inquired and sounded annoyed.

"It's dead. Murphy's as quiet as a pillow now," I mumbled, noting the silence in my brain.

"He do that?" Mikey asked me and jerked a thumb a the downed tree.

"The tree and the tripping? Yeah, I gave Murph the idea."

"Dude, that is so fucked up," Tanner squealed the words in a giggle. "Holy fuck! We didn't have to do shit, and I was ready for a fight."

"That was the start of payback for Hector and Doug," Ram said in angry voice, and his Tennessee twang heightened it. "Maybe those idjits will learn to leave ya alone."

A hard lump formed in my throat when I heard the words. It would take me the rest of my life to make amends for the death of Doug and Hector, but I agreed with Ram's sentiment. If aliens wanted to come and try to take Murphy from me, I would fight and destroy them all if I could. Oddity would not go down without getting his due. Tanner took the brief moment of quiet to go and pick up the devices dropped by the being. He brought them back. Ram held out his hand. Tanner deposited them into smaller, somewhat stubby appendage.

It took Ram all of ten seconds to reduce the devices into strange metallic confetti that sparked and sparkled as the pieces fell to the ground. Small person though he might be, my boyfriend possessed a real ability. He brushed his hands off on a patch of grass next to us. I saw the blades wilt, yet Ram's hands did not show any effect.

"We didn't even test that shit," Tanner moaned as he stared at the pieces on the ground.

"Gonna get your fool ass killed one day," Zandy huffed.

"Can we go eat now?" Joel harrumphed and started walking.

The group acted as though the last two minutes did not happen. We strolled past the scene. I looked down at Ram. A fierce unfriendly smile still rested on his lips. When he looked up at me, his features softened. My brain tried to assimilate the situation that just played out.

"Ram?" I quietly said his name.

"Some of us have seen more shit than the Xers. It ain't easy out here for those of us not having a group or gang. Part of the reason why the house got going," he answered.

"Strength in numbers, Ted," said Casey in a bored manner.

"Fuck, he don't need no numbers with that thing in him," Tanner said and giggled again. It sounded a touch sinister.

"We all need numbers," Joel intoned as he stomped forward toward his destination and lead the way around the corner onto Poillon Drive. "He might be Oddity and you might be Nail Gun, but alone ain't either of you gonna last long. Don't care how strong that Murphy is: sooner or later someone'd take him out if no one is watching his back,"

"We all need a crew, Tanner, if we're going make it… 'specially if we ain't joining any of the other ones," Mikey added for good measure.

It gave me a lot to think about as we walked along. I held out my hand, and Ram quickly took it into his own after wiping them on his pants and seeing no ill effects. His flesh still felt hard as rock, but it softened as we sauntered along. The others talked about the dangers they faced as self-exiled members from various gangs. When we neared King Street I heard the unmistakable sound of the Blackbird in the distance. The light of the jets illuminated the area where we confronted the alien not more than five minutes before. It made me wonder if they tracked me or just scanned for an anomalous event. Even though I knew they spent hundreds of millions of dollars on technology every year, I did not always understand what the X-Men did with it all. Our group paused for only a moment, and then Joel continued to lead the way. The man clearly wanted to eat fish.

The Royal Schooner appeared like any number of outer borough establishments: half-quaint and half-shabby. For a weekday it hosted quiet a few patrons. Our group squeezed around tables until we got near the back. Only Ram attracted any attention, but Joel, Tanner and Zandy silently made it known the other customers should leave us be. Heads returned to their own matters. We pushed two tables together and arranged ourselves around it. A waiter dressed in everyday street clothes slid in at one end of the table. Before I could ask for a menu, the rest of our troupe began to shout out orders for pitchers of beer and the fish platter. When the waiter glanced at me, I ordered the same.

"There's only two rooms left in the house, and we've been using 'em for storage for a long time. Might take you a while to clean one out," Joel said to me once the waiter disappeared and without any preface.

"Why would I need another room?" I asked once I gleaned his overall what he meant.

"'Cause the one Ram's got is only fit for a midget," Tanner blurted, and Zandy elbowed him. "Dammit! Quit doing that, Zan!"

"Then check your mouth 'fore your lips start flapping," she rounded on him.

I suspected this counted as normal interaction for them.

"He knows what I mean. Right, Ram?" The aggrieved housemate grumped.

"'Spectin' me to argue with her? Y'all done lost your mind, Tanner," Ram said and warily eyed Zandy in a comical manner.

Those of us not in the exchange snickered.

"But I was already thinking 'bout it. My room is fine for just me, but on the tight side for two," my boyfriend. "End room might'n be better, but there sure is a ton of old shit in there."

With that a greater discussion about the overall state of the house began. Casey and Zandy argued all of the housemates needed to band together to spruce it up. Tanner looked nonplussed. Joel and Mikey exchanged a knowing glance. Ram thoughtfully nodded his head as the two women presented a rather extensive list of repairs that needed attention. They did not even pause when pitchers of beer got set on the table along with beer glasses in front of each person. Casey then began speculating how much I could contribute to the house fund since I would be working a real job, and Ram began arguing with her about unfair appropriations. The discussion raged back and forth. Mikey, almost as quiet as Joel, ventured an opinion the house might collapse if they did not tend to basic maintenance.

The food arrived, and the debate continued. We ate. We argued. We laughed. We talked. It felt so normal I forgot about the encounter on the street. Beer flowed as more pitchers got ordered. It seemed Joel and Tanner did not feel the effects, and Zandy came in a close third although I noticed she slowed in her consumption. By the end of an hour we finished our meal and enjoyed ourselves.

A hush rippled through the bar after the door opened. I, along with every other person, turned to see what caused the cessation of talk. Scott Summers, dressed in his X-Men garb, stood at the entrance and surveyed the room. He searched for me, and I knew it. When Scott spotted me, he walked over as if every eye in the room did not focus on him. As he neared the table, I watched as the housemates took on surly expressions.

"He's one of the good ones," I said to the group, and waited for Scott to stand next to the table before I said: "So, ah, what brings you this way?"

"Ted, um… hi," he replied and gave a small wave to the table. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about a, ah… gray mess a couple of streets over?"

"Oh, dude, it was fucking sick!" Tanner immediately burst. "That asshole came walking at us with this voice box thing and I think maybe a gun or something 'cept Ram turned it into dust, and … fuck!"

His loud exclamation got proceeded by another of Zandy's sharp elbow jabs. Tanner shut his mouth. I caught Scott trying to suppress a grin and his lips twitched. He reached back with one leg, snagged a chair, and dragged it under his butt. Then he sat with Joel staring at him from the left and Zandy from the right.

"So what he said?" Scott muttered and nodded at Tanner.

"Someone who wanted to… see Murph, but Murphy said no… in his own way," I said in as covert as manner as possible without sacrificing all meaning.

"Murphy did that? How much were you involved?"

"I provided the ideas."

"Was he a threat?" The leader of the west coast X-Men inquired.

"A serious one. He… she had a blaster of some kind and looked ready to use it. Murphy introduced him to the local flora," I told him.

Scott snorted. It made Tanner grin. Ram relaxed a bit, as did Mikey and Joel. Casey and Zandy, however, did not lower their guard.

"Sir?" Scott said while sitting up straight and raising a hand. "Two pitchers of whatever they're already drinking and another glass."

The waiter nodded at the X-Man in a rather dumb manner, but he went to the bartender. Scott then glanced down at Zandy's plate. He looked at her.

"Gonna finish those fries?" He asked.

She shook her head.

"Mind if I nibble on them?"

She held out a hand to give permission. Scott snagged three of the cold fries and jammed them into his mouth. He chewed for a few seconds.

"My dinner got interrupted when we caught a blip of something coming through the atmosphere. I am freaking starving," he said after he swallowed.

"You know you can always order food," Zandy somewhat tersely informed him.

"What did you guys have?"

"Fish. Beer-battered cod," Tanner promptly supplied the information and appeared to be the only one not hesitant to speak with the X-Man.

"Any good?" Scott directly asked me.

"Actually, very good. Great tartar sauce," I replied.

"Add a beer-battered cod plate to that beer order," Scott gracelessly called out to the waiter.

Somehow a man ordering one of the principle meals at the establishment, regardless of his dress or status, broke the ice. People slowly returned to their conversations, although I could hear they talked about the X-Man that suddenly appeared in their midst. While the bar patrons edged closer to normalcy, Scott pulled back the hood on his suit. His russet hair stood up from static electricity. It made him appeared far less than intimidating than the rest of the suit implied. Then he scrubbed his head.

"So, give me the skinny on the gray goo and pile of bones," he pressed, and then leaned aside as the waiter brought the pitchers of beer and another glass. Scott glanced at my new housemates and said: "I'm only having one, so tip 'em back."

Joel beat Tanner to the nearest pitcher. Casey began pouring a glass from the one nearest her. She then filled Ram's and my glass. Zandy demurred when Mikey offered to top off her glass. Scott filled his glass last, and took a long swig from it. Contrary to what he said, he refilled the half that went missing. All the while I filled in what small details he needed to hear about the encounter.

"Never identified himself?" Inquired the X-Man.

"No. Just asked me to give him the Focus…"

"It said give us the Focus," Casey corrected me.

"Could be a translation error," Ram theorized after he consumed a third of a glass of beer.

"But he wanted the Murph," Joel muttered, and his style of naming the Focus in the my head made me grin.

"Didn't get it. Got fucking flattened is what he got," Tanner reiterated with more glee than I thought necessary.

"Scott," and I said the name in a serious voice. "These people prepared to fight along side me."

"We'd've kicked its ass, too," Mikey confidently stated. "Nobody fucks with one of us and gets away with it."

"True that," Tanner rumbled, and I heard enough threat in his voice that Murphy squeaked a little.

"Well, you really got a knack for picking the right people, Ted," said Scott as he looked from person to person.

"Ram does," I corrected my former colleague.

"But you picked me," Ram joined in.

"We sort of picked each other that night."

"That was a good night," my boyfriend softly said as a smile lit on his face.

"Fucking horn dog," Tanner teased and tossed half a French fry at him.

"They were so loud," Mikey partially complained.

"Guess we do need a room farther down the hall."

Two seconds later the housemates started laughing. Scott grinned at the mirth of the moment. It seemed impossible at first, but Scott managed to integrate himself into the conversation as we went back to talking about the house. He added some of his own comments from what he went through in California. I reminded him the wealth of the Institute backed him up. He shrugged. When he food came, he sat and ate as though he planned to spend the evening with us. My new housemates eased up when they realized I did not lie about Scott Summers being one of the good ones. I think they could also tell we shared a real friendship. The night wore on.

Scott stayed until we decided to leave, and he walked with us until we got to the spot where the alien got crushed by the tree. Nothing remained except a dark, wet spot on the sidewalk where it happened. The X-Men knew how to cover tracks. At that point Cyclops went to find where he hid the Blackbird. The rest of us merrily slouched toward home fed, happy, and some a little drunk. Ram held my hand. I held his. Murphy lay blissfully quiet.


	14. Chapter 14

Two days later I found myself sitting at the back of the X-Men memorial room. Black marble inlaid with runners of cream marble lay beneath our feet. Benches of what looked like lacquered ebony with shoulder blade high backs formed two sections. Cream colored walls with tall windows spaced evenly on the right and left reduced the severity of the benches and flooring. Overhead a gently vaulted ceiling rose. It gave off a church-like atmosphere, but one bedecked in Institute colors. I sat trying not to notice the décor while one hand held onto Marrow's and the other held onto Stacey's. Ram sat next to Stacey. Next to Ram Eric and Japheth took seats with us instead with the rest of the X-Men. It gave me heart on such a sad day. Of course, my jaw still hurt from where Marrow punched me when I arrived in the vestibule with Ram.

"Five days, motherfucker!" She whispered in my face as I lay on the floor just after I entered the vestibule and she ambushed me. "Five fucking days I don't hear from you, and you didn't have the goddamn balls to tell me you were leaving."

I thought she might strike me again. Murphy barely made a sound. It seemed the Focus of Probability thought I deserved the punishment. I did as well. Ram wisely did not interfere. If it came down to a fight between them, I could not place a bet. Ram possessed strength and those amazing fists, but Marrow could repeatedly arm herself and came equipped with years of real-world fighting experience. Stacey, whose arrival coincided with Marrow's ambush of me, sat in a chair and watched us tussle. A few of the other X-Men stopped to watched, but my angry friend hissed at them and they moved on.

"Marrow, it wasn't planned," I said to her, and it hurt to move my jaw. She hit me fairly hard. "They tried to blame Hector and Doug's death on me, and I couldn't take it."

Marrow grabbed me by the lapels of my suit jacket and hauled me upward until our faces almost touched. Then she growled a few sentences I suspect she practiced for just this moment: "Why didn't you ask me to help kick their asses? Huh? What sort of fucking friend are you? You knew I wanted out!"

"I'm sorry."

"Oh, please, little missy," Stacey droned. "As soon as you found out he left you shot straight to my place and haven't left since."

I looked Marrow in the eye.

"So what? Stace is putting me up for a while 'til I figure out what the fuck I'm going to do 'cause I sure as shit ain't coming back here and be by myself," my friend rumbled in a fashion that spoke as much as her words.

I tilted my head back and looked at Stacey. She dressed in a fabulously silky black gown that looked painted onto her body. The dress somehow managed to be coy and revealing at one and the same time. The black stiletto heeled boots only added to the contradictions. It seemed simultaneously appropriate and inappropriate. Both Doug and Hector would have loved the outfit. If anything could rouse them from the dead, I morosely thought, Stacey in that ensemble could pull it off.

"Sweetie, you know she can stay for as long as she wants," said my older female friend. "Marrow is quiet and clean. Kind of surprised me to tell you the truth."

"Fuck off, Stace," Marrow grumbled at her. Then she shook me a few times to get my attention and she got it. "If you ever fucking leave me like that again, I will fucking hunt you down and kill you."

Murphy started to buzz, and that meant Marrow meant what she said. I winced a little. My subtly violent friend eyed me for a moment.

"Murph talking to you?" She asked.

"Um, I think he's trying to talk to you," I informed her.

Marrow let go of my jacket and I flopped back onto the tiled flooring. She possessed an unerring sense of exactly how far she could push me and Murphy, and vice versa. Ram walked over and held out his hand.

"You the reason I haven't seen him, Short Round?" She grunted at my boyfriend.

"Call me that again and I'll pull y'all's spine outta y'all's ass, Bony," Ram tersely returned.

Marrow lowered herself onto the balls of her feet and began to assume a fighting crouch. Ram began to ball his hands into fists. I shook my head.

"I suppose this is one way to send our beloved friends into the afterlife: they did enjoy watching Marrow fight," Stacey drolly stated.

She broke the tension. Marrow rose out of her crouch. She smirked at Ram. Ram grinned and held out his hand to me. When I took it, it felt like touching a statue. He did prepare to fight her if it came down to it. Again I could not call the victor.

We arrived for two separate services that would take place two hours apart. We did not speak as we watched the first closed casket, the one carrying Doug, get wheeled into the hall. Everyone stood who could. I heard sniffling and crying from some quarters and it sickened me. Apparently it sickened Eric and Japheth because they removed themselves from the main body of mourners. We accept them with nods of our heads. This six of us sat and listened as several X-Men eulogized Doug. I grew progressively enraged at how much the false speeches would gall my dead best friend.

"All a bunch of bullshit," I said loud enough so half the hall heard me.

The angry glares we, or rather I, received got met by six faces who threw it right back at them. Those who knew Doug the best never once got asked to say a few words. After half an hour of fatuous deliveries, Doug's casket got wheeled away. People began to file out. A middle-aged couple stopped and stared at us. I immediately saw the resemblances.

"Mister and Missus Ramsey," I said and stood up. "I… am so sorry."

I started to choke up, and Mrs. Ramsey offered me her hand. Then she said: "You must be Ted. I recognized Stacey and Marrow for the descriptions Doug gave us. Tell me, please, is it true he died protecting you?"

I began to nod my head, and then Stacey replied: "He died a hero, Missus and Mister Ramsey. We got attacked by some aliens, and Doug… Doug protected more than just Ted. He saved something very special. His death was not a waste. I can assure you that."

I witnessed Doug's parents receiving the news. Tears slid down their cheeks. However, Stacey told them something apparently no one else did: their son did die a hero. Mrs. Ramsey released my hand and extended it to Stacey. Stacey took it in her right hand and covered it over with her left. Only barest flinch of muscle told me she gave it a gentle squeeze.

"None of us here, his real friends, will ever forget him. Doug was one of the best friends I ever had," she gracefully continued.

"Doug loved you four," the woman said in a voice made gravelly from pent up emotion. "He wrote about you people, his friends… quite often."

"Please," I said when I saw Mister Ramsey look over my shoulder. "This is Ram, Eric, and Japheth. They were also there on the night of the attack. They joined our group a few weeks ago."

The three mumbled strained greetings because of the nature of the moment.

"He said he was finally on a team he liked. That was you, I take it?" Doug's father asked in a quiet voice that sounded so much like Doug's it made my chest hurt and eyes sting.

"People underestimated his ability, but his gift… was amazing," Japheth said before I or the rest of us could compose ourselves. His accent rolled and add weight to his words.

"It was an honor to be on his team," Eric commented, and it gave the right touch to the moment.

"The last time I talked him, two nights before… I never heard him sound happier. Thank you, all of you, for that," his mother said and every other word nearly came out sob.

My heart broke anew watching their grief because it looked I how I felt. My throat closed up tighter than a spigot, and tears raced down my face. Looking at the couple reminded me I would not be the only one who would miss Doug. Marrow grabbed my arm and squeezed it. It hurt.

"We're glad he had you as a team… and that you were with him at the end," Doug's father half-whispered.

The couple in their late fifties looked at us, all of us, for a few seconds. Mrs. Ramsey tried to smile, but her cheeks only twitched. Mr. Ramsey's expression never changed. Words seemed entirely pointless at that moment. Thus, they turned and began walking away. We watched them leave the memorial hall. When the Ramseys passed through the doors, I slumped down back into a seat, buried my face into my hands, and let the sorrow pour out of me. Ram's strong hands massaged my neck and shoulders.

I missed Doug so much it physically hurt. Meeting his parents only made it worse. It proved the reality of my lost friend. It also proved I would never see him again. My anger toward the aliens who came in search of Murphy, to take Murphy and do who-knew-what with him, and managed to kill two of my best friends became visceral as my grief tried to find expression and release. I hoped their family and friends felt the same torment over their deaths. My neck began to heat up the longer I thought about it. The sensation stilled my crying. I could not hear Murphy in my mind like I could when threatened, but I could sense him at work.

"Ted," Ram's voice eased into my ears and he sounded worried. "Is there something near about here we all need to be worryin' 'bout? Y'all's neck is feeling a might hot."

I heard chairs move and the air around me swirled. I opened my eyes and lifted my head. The back of my right hand wiped at the tears on my cheeks. A quick scan showed my boyfriend, friends, and former teammates stood at high alert. I started to shake my head.

"No, nothing's here. Muph… I think it knows how sad I am and… angry. I am so fucking angry for what they did to Doug and Hector," I said and wound up growling the last few words.

"Is the Murphy in your head going to strike?" Japheth inquired with a touch of concern in his voice.

"I don't know. Maybe. I not thinking anything specific."

"Ted, can Murph do something across space from here?" Marrow asked and it sounded like she gargled broken glass. Like me, Doug and Hector formed a primary support system for her. Her grief likely rivaled mine.

"Yeah, I think so," I mumbled. "He's sort of everywhere, isn't he?"

My friends, and now I did include Eric and Japheth since they stood with us and not the rest of the X-Men, exchanged odd looks with one another. I craned my head around and looked at Ram. He raised one eyebrow ala Mister Spock.

"What?" I queried.

"Sort of god-like, don't you think?" Eric quietly stated.

"What? No! Don't be stupid. I'm not in control of Murphy in case you forgot…"

"Really, sweetie, you've got to stop saying that," Stacey gently upbraided me. "We all watched while Murphy took out those four aliens just because you thought about it."

"And don't go forgettin' that one from two nights ago," Ram interjected.

"Other one?" Marrow and Japheth said in unison.

Ram gave them a quick accounting of the encounter during our walk to The Royal Schooner. He made it sound far more adventurous than I remembered the incident. According to my reckoning, we got lucky in that a not very bright alien tried to take on the entirety of the housemates, each of whom I suspected at the time contained rather interesting powers. I learned that Joel could increase his relative density that made him rather impervious to physical attack, warped local gravity, and could crush just about anything under him. Tanner could shoot his fingernails like bullets, a feat that seemed both impressive and painful, and boasted tremendous aim. Ram said it could kill people as if they got hit even at a medium range. Casey possessed serious witch-like powers that she, herself, said she did not fully understand. She explained she could manifest a person's worst memories or nightmares and turn it against them. Mikey could disappear into whatever background lay around him. He did not become truly invisible, but rather conjured the best camouflage for which one could ask. Zandy could bend and twist like a snake, and even elongate her body to a certain extent. Ram said she could crush a person like a boa constrictor. Finally, no one knew what Nina could do. I got told she arrived at the house terrified of her power and never once displayed it. She would not even talk about it. Thus, even without my participation, the alien who assaulted us would never survive the meeting.

"Honey, you may not control Murphy, but he sure does seem to like you enough to do what you ask," Stacey intoned after Ram finished his short tale.

"He's just making it easier on himself," I said and reiterated a point I made hundreds of times.

My friends glanced from one to another.

"Oh, fuck no," I said, standing up, and sniffling back against a head full of snot from crying. "Do not make it sound like that! I only get some benefit from having that damn thing in my head!"

My voice rang in the empty hall. No one stuck around after the service and nobody came to talk to us except the Ramseys. Seconds later Eric filled my vision.

"Ted, listen to me, and I know a lot about this," the handsome man stated with the voice of authority. "My tattoos give me extraordinary powers, and that's why you invited me on your team. You even said so."

"Yeah, so? Anyone who can't see that is an idiot," I tersely rejoined.

"My friend," and Eric said the words with real intent, "I know power when I see it. Murphy is power. Probably the most powerful thing any of us have ever seen… encountered. In less than thirty seconds you wiped out that assault team."

I frowned. Eric crossed his arms over his well-developed chest. His eyes bore into mine.

"Maybe not you directly, but Murphy followed your instructions. Maybe it's doing it just to get you to calm down and leave it alone… protect you so it doesn't have to find a new home, but what I personally witnessed rivals anyone who lives at the mansion," said the man called Ink.

"It was pretty bad ass, Ted," Marrow grumbled in her still hoarse voice.

"And you're forgetting someone with a gun, a knife… shit, even a club can take me out if I can't see what they're doing?" I challenged their assertions and scanned each of their faces. "A sniper hidden a hundred yards away can drop me like deer and Murphy can't do a damn thing about it. Murphy is the power and I'm… I'm just the liability it has to live with!"

What they did not realize and what I could not explain came in the fact seeing the dead bodies of my two friends shocked me so hard I mentally moved out of Murphy's way. My immediate hatred of the aliens who killed Doug and Hector overrode any other consideration in my brain. I let the Focus of Probability act however it wished. That did not equate to power: it only equated to luck. My friends, dressed finer than I ever did, except for Stacey who possessed exquisite if exotic taste, looked nonplussed by my argument. Others I would ignore, but I took their opinion very serious.

"And that's why you built the team, honey," Stacey said in her silky smooth voice. "You never claimed to be invincible, Teddy. You always admitted it was Murphy and not you who did all the work. But, sweet thing, you knew enough to surround yourself with people who could give you the chance to let Murphy do what Murphy does. We always understood that. You were honest about it from the start."

I heard mumbled agreement.

"I did… and look what it cost us," I said and my words turned to a whisper as I stared at the front of the empty hall.

We got the point where we began to rehash past points we never seemed to be able to resolve. Questions turned into more questions that did not yield answers. Despite that, it still felt right to talk with my friends about what happened. It did not ease my sorrow, but it gave me greater context in which to place the events. I needed that as much as I needed condolences.

When it came time for Hector's service over an hour later, far fewer people arrived after his casket arrived. They left the lid closed as they did for Doug. I estimated roughly a third of the number that showed for Doug's service made an appearance for Hector's. It made me angry. It made the others angry as well. As a group we moved to the middle of the hall while the professor wheeled himself to the front. Charles began the service by saying Hector lived and died as an X-Men dedicated to the cause of the greater good of all mutants. When I started to snort, Stacey gently elbowed me. Ram took hold of my hand and held it tight. Charles seemed to notice my fidgeting, but he continued with the dull pablum he prepared for the day. My gorge rose as I listened because the man clearly did not know much about Hector let alone how others viewed him. It stunned everyone in the hall when the professor asked if anyone would care to say a few words. I began to stand before Ram or Stacey could hold me down.

"Ah, Mister Johnson," Charles said my name and every head turned to look at me, and some with appalled expressions. "Please, come forward."

I moved up the aisle as requested, and Marrow hissed something at me I could not properly hear. My feet moved and I drew closer to the front of the hall while my brain attempted to figure out what I would say. I gave up trying to prepare remarks and decided to wing it. As I approached I adjusted my jacket. Charles gave me a rather vapid if benign small smile during my entire walk. When I halted at the edge of the dais, he beckoned me to step and next to him. I did, and it gave me a queasy feeling. Anger and grief warred within me.

"I think it appropriate for Th… Ted to say a few words. He was very close to Hector," Charles stated and rolled to the side.

"Ah… Hector," I said and swallowed against the emotion building in my throat. "Hector was one of the most beautiful people I ever knew. He was one of my best friends, and he… died… the same night as… Doug."

My eyes dropped and stared at point on the floor half way between the riser and the first row of seats. I drew in a deep breath and held it for a moment. I searched for a calm place in my mind so I could say what I wanted to say without falling apart. I slowly exhaled and inhaled once more.

"Hector never thought people valued him very much, and he knew his mutant ability… it was ridiculous and he knew it. But he was worth more than just being a mutant," I said as my own words began to roil my emotions. "I don't get this place and the people who live here. You claim to value all life, especially mutant life, and yet most of you fucking dismiss anyone… any ability you think is beneath you. The caste system… the cliques in this is the reason why I left. But for someone like Hector, he had to stay, trapped in this hellhole…"

"Mister Johnson, please limit your remarks to what you recalled about Hector Rendoza," Charles tried to chastise me.

I shook my head and said: "I am, you lame bucket of shit."

Most of the people in the gather gasped. Few ever saw another person show anything but deference and respect to Charles Xavier. These people needed a lesson. Hector's life should serve as that lesson, but they missed it. Charles first and foremost.

"I'm willing to be most of you don't know Hector's middle name," I continued and vitriol began to surface. "Any of you know the names of his parents? His brothers or sisters? Even where he came from?"

Only three faces, aside his real friends, did not look slightly ashamed.

"Does anyone here know what he wanted to do if it wasn't for that goddamn mutation that made his skin invisible?"

Charles, Hank, and Ororo slipped on their neutral faces. Because of his mutation, Hector rarely talked about what his life would be like without it. Three of us in the room knew. Eric, Japheth, and Ram never got the privilege or the time to truly get to know Hector. Everyone else in the hall that afternoon tried to look everywhere else except at me.

"So how the fuck do you think it made him feel to have a mutation not powerful enough to make him useful to you assholes, but made him different enough so he couldn't go out in public without that fake face? How many of you here laughed at him behind his back, called him useless, or just… never even really thought about him as a person?" I slung the questions a the assembled like hurling stones from a sling.

As I spoke, Marrow sat up straight and her visage became a fierce scowl. Stacey appeared angry and defiant as well. Ram looked ready to tear the seat under him into scrap metal. Eric and Japheth both frowned and looked at the backs of the people seated before them. I uncovered a nasty truth. Mutants would deride other mutants with what they considered sub-par mutations. Doug often proved a useful utility, and he bore handsome features. That gave him a small pass. Hector never got that. I never got that. The entire house knew not a single x-gene existed in my body. At least I could generate some fear. Hector, kind and generous and polite to a fault, got dismissed and overlooked nearly every moment of his life in the Institute. I glared at Charles.

"Charles, personally I'm glad, grateful even, you saved Hector's life," I stated and tried to force the bile rising in my throat down to a tolerable level. "But you never gave him a life. He got stuck here. I know he took classes on-line trying to get a degree, but do you know how many times he asked me what it was like going to a college campus? You saved him for a life of loneliness and exclusion… even from his own kind."

I finally got the reward I always sought from the professor: he sneered at me. I saw the realization get lodged in his head. Saving a person's life did not, could not guarantee his or her life would be better for it. Without Doug, Marrow, Stacey, and me, Hector would be consigned to spending endless days alone and without a single friend. None of the other mutants wanted to associated with him for fear their social status would suffer. In the end, Hector suffered a fate worse than death: he got ignored. He knew too well only three of us valued him as a person. Hours and hours of discussion with him revealed the scars it left on him. His invisible skin hid those wounds.

"I wanted Hector to leave the mansion with me. I asked him at least once a month, and he always said no. His latex face would only get him so far, and he feared how the outside world would treat him. Hector told me – and I am not making this shit up – he told me at least here he was kind of safe 'cause no one ever paid attention to him. He knew you laughed at him, but… I guess it was better than getting kicked to death by non-mutants."

By that point my voice grew thick and tears rolled down my face. Ram's words to me in the days after the deaths echoed through my head. I clung to them lest I get out Murphy's way and let him eradicate the X-Men on Doug and Hector's behalf.

"I loved… Hector. Really loved him. He was a brother to me," I choked out the words, and I'm fairly certain snot bubbled from my nose. "I hated… that fucking fake face and wouldn't let him… wear it around me. I wanted Hector to know at least one person wanted to see him for himself. Stacey… Marrow, Doug… we all agreed on that. What about you people. What did you agree on about Hector? Would you say it to the face you couldn't see?"

Not a single person before the last row looked at me. I could feel their seething anger over my temerity I should reveal this unspoken unpleasantness. Long ago it became obvious to me the mutant variety of human did not really differ from the non-mutant variety. Doug and Hector's deaths simply made it abundantly clear. Their lives did not get celebrated like heroes. It seemed logical the people in attendance came not out of a sense of friendship for the two, but rather as part of their job. I did not see a wet eye in the hall, except for those who sat in the back. The mutants did not come to mourn: they came to be rid of what they considered an embarrassment. It made the lot of them excruciatingly human.

I cleared my throat and said: "Hector died an X-Man. He died fighting an enemy. He died a hero. He didn't die like most of you are probably thinking. My friend… my beautiful friend… died trying to keep me alive. He's more than… than…," and I scanned the room, "worth more than all of you combined. Pray to whatever god you believe in I never see any of you. I will not stop Murphy from doing what he wants."

Amid a collective gasp I left the dais. I walked to Hector's casket, and then I leaned over and kissed where I though his cold cheek might lay. I held it for several seconds as a shudder ran through me and tears flowed out of my eyes. For a man who's face I never saw in the flesh, Hector did become beautiful to me. My heart ached over the notion I would never hear his gentle voice again. I stood, racked by misery, and walked toward the back of the hall. I did not stop. As I passed the row with my living friends in it, they stood and followed me out. Our numbers included Eric and Japheth.

I did not hear a single sniffle as we left other than the ones I and the rest of The Unwanted made. As we neared the end and the doors leading to the vestibule, Ram slid his hand in mine. I cried as I squeezed it and prayed his strength would ebb into me so I could leave the service hall under my own power. My knees felt like jelly as I left my beloved friend behind in his casket, soon to be consigned to flames. No X-Man ever got buried for fear of grave and DNA robbers.

Once we cleared the short stretch of hallway connecting the memorial hall to the mansion, we made for the parking lot. Stacey's yellow behemoth sat parked next to Ram's little red sports car. None of us spoke as we picked up our pace in an effort to reach the vehicles. As I feared when I abruptly abandoned the dais, Scott Summers strolled through the parking lot toward the vehicles. He looked quite dapper in his dark suit. He even adorned appropriate dark quartz glasses. His russet hair gleamed in the sunlight. The skies did not cry for my friends that day.

"You know they're going to serve a lunch?" Scott asked loud enough so we could hear him.

"I… can't stay," I told him. "Not hungry."

"Me, either," Marrow said.

"So you're just going to scare the shit out of everyone and run?" Inquired my likely last remaining friend in the mansion. Even though one could not see his eyes, the slightly disapproving look came through.

"I didn't mean you, Scott," I said in a rush and shifted around on my feet.

Ram drew in close next to me. Despite my repeated attempts to get him to believe Scott Summers would not betray me, my boyfriend continued to harbor deep suspicions even after the night at The Royal Schooner. I also noticed how quiet the others remained.

"Ted, everything you said about how Hector got treated is true. I think most of those people attended to get extra credit from Charles," Scott said while his mouth turned downward. "Sometimes I get embarrassed 'bout how we treat each other."

"So you understand why I won't come back?" I asked.

"I told you before I know your reasons. I can't and won't argue the point. You've got to do what's best for you, Ted."

We stared at one another for a few moments, and then he said: "I wanted to ask Japheth and Eric something in front of you before you disappeared."

"What?" Eric bluntly queried.

"I can use people like you two over on the west coast. I already talked to Charles and he said I should feel free to talk to you. He also said he won't interfere in whatever you decide."

"Why make this offer now?" Japheth asked with as much skepticism as Eric implied.

"Because with Ted gone and The Unwanted disbanded, I don't want to see you two go through the same shit as before. I trust Ted's judgment about people. I read the requisition report and what he planned to do with the team. I'm going to pick up where he left off, and you and Eric can be key proponents and members," Scott explained and I only heard seriousness in his tone.

Eric glanced at Japheth, and then Japheth glanced at me. My red eyes and snotty nose probably did not exude any confidence. Regardless, I nodded my head. Scott made in the offer in front of me to prove its legitimacy.

"He won't screw you over," I said to Japheth. "He's one of the good ones."

A sly grin crossed Eric's mouth when he asked: "How do we know?"

"Murphy didn't attack him."

Marrow made a grunting noise, and Ram squeezed my hand.

"Can we talk about this some more?" Japheth inquired without a hint of amusement.

"I head back to Sacramento in five days, so we've got some time, but I'd like answer in at least three days so we can make arrangements," one of the most senior X-Men said.

Scott held out his hand. Eric accepted it. When he released it, the appendage got extended to Japheth. He shook it as well. Then Scott surprised us all and held it out to Marrow. My head snapped to the side and saw her surprised expression.

"The offer still stands, Marrow. You're a hell of a fighter, disciplined even if you do have a foul mouth, and there's room for you out there. Nobody will care what you look like," he said to her.

Venturing into the topic of Marrow's appearance typically resulted in a person walking away with a broken jaw. She wore a pantsuit that managed to disguise most of the protrusions on her body, and I could not imagine the size of the woman for whom it originally got tailored. The light gray diminished the color of her skin. Marrow's eyes, however, would forever be a window into her thinking. She narrowed them and looked at the hand. The irises appeared a bit crimson around the edges. The offer unnerved her for some reason.

"Three days?" She asked.

Scott nodded.

"I'll fucking think about," Marrow stated with her usual tact.

"Stacey?" Cyclops asked the question with a single word.

"Sorry, honey, but you can't afford me," she said through a cryptic grin. "No one can."

My likely last X-Men friend bobbed his head once. He head lolled to one side for a moment, and then I heard Eric rumble a bit. Stacey's power oozed through the air. She meant to make a clean get away. A quick survey of Eric and Japheth revealed them to be under the spell of her pheromones. She nudged Marrow.

"Dinner tonight, boys?" Stacey asked Ram and me.

"Pick us up at seven," I told her.

Ram nodded.

With that Stacey and Marrow went to yellow land-bound leviathan. Once they climbed into the cabin, the engine growled to life. I cannot for the life of me figure out how she did it, but the Cadillac pulled daintily out of the spot and then gracefully rolled through the parking lot with the engine threatening to eat the other autos. It glided to the exit, and then down the entrance road.

"She's class, that one is," Ram mumbled.

"Just don't cross her or she'll hand you your head," I add to remind him the seductive woman hid many, many skills, and a number of them quite lethal.

We waited until the effects of her power lessened to a manageable degree. Scott slapped himself in the face several time to regain his wits. Eric and Japheth hummed with the pleasure of their fantasies. Scott cast his glance at me and my boyfriend.

"Nothing?" He asked.

"With him around? Why?" I countered and nudged Ram.

My boyfriend snickered.

"So we're cool, Ted?" Mister Summers picked up on an earlier topic, and I could tell time remained skewed to him. Stacey's ability with pheromones could mess up a person's head for days.

"You've been a friend to me since I first got here. You never lied to me… that I know of."

"Always been straight with you."

"Damn shame, too. You're a good looking man, Scott," I replied and could not pass up the chance to turn the statement around.

I saw Ram shake his head back and forth, but he snickered. Scott smirked, but he held out his hand. I took it. The grip, while strong, did not mean to intimidate. It seemed oddly intimate to me.

"Keep in touch. I, ah… well, what Charles doesn't know or can't figure out will never hurt him. You'll be hearing from me, Ted. You, too, Ram. I saw the security footage. Very impressive," my friend said and hid a hundred intents in his words.

"Y'all are a bit of okay, Summers," Ram said.

Scott scrunched up his face.

"It's a compliment," I said through a small smile.

Scott looked around. He stared at Eric and Japheth for a moment and then turned his attention to Ram and me. The scrutiny made me feel a bit uncomfortable. Most mutants got stared at by the general public, and they tried to avoid making the same mistake. The man called Cyclops, however, persisted.

"Scott?" I asked with his name after half a minute.

"Are you going to be okay? Seriously. I'm worried about you. This was a lot… even for a seasoned operative," he finally spoke his mind.

"I got Ram, and I know where Stacey lives, so I've got both of them, too. It hurts, Scott, it really fucking hurts," I told him as the emotion got ready to wash me away. Only the tightening of Ram's grip on my hand to a painful level kept me from getting carried away. "They both deserved… so much better. Deserve to be alive."

"I won't argue there, Ted. Charles doesn't understand what you were trying to do… for them and for yourself."

"If it wasn't his idea…"

"Then it can't be that great," the man finished for me. "This is going to sound twisted, but… damn it, Ted, if they had to die at least they went as X-Men… fighting. Heroes."

"Told you," Ram whispered.

"You gave that to them. Maybe it's not what you wanted them to have, but it's weirdly a hell of a lot better than if they died of old age in the mansion."

Scott and I stared at one another. I guessed he looked into my eyes and I could not see past the dark quartz lens. Of course, without those, my head would be turned to ash or goo or whatever the plasma streams from his eyes did to flesh. The sun continued to shine overhead, and I grew warm in my suit. Birds chirped somewhere close by, and the gravel under the feet of people crackled as we shifted out weight.

"Scott, I'll go to Sacramento," Japheth suddenly piped up. "I didn't think you understood. You do."

"The rules are a little different out there. I think you'll like the environment. There's already a couple of people who want to work with Eany and Meany," the west coast leader told the South African.

"And me?" Eric inquired.

"Personally, you scare the living shit out of me, Eric," Scott said in a low voice.

I looked down at Ram, and he looked as surprised as I felt. However, I did not doubt Scott meant what he said. I turned my head a bit. Eric's eyebrows remained raised.

"I read the team reports about you. You're no joke, and what you can do is… not sure I'd ever want to face you in a fight," the more-than-capable X-Man flatly stated while visually appraising Eric as though for the first time. "Look, we watched the training videos of you guys, The Unwanted, and we studied the security footage from the fight. I've got teams bidding for each one of you."

Despite the sadness that filled me, I felt happiness for Eric and Japheth. I knew Scott would not, to use a vulgar colloquialism, blow smoke up their asses. He knew loss as keenly as I experienced over the past week. He got made the outsider on more than one occasion, especially after Jean Grey turned into the Dark Phoenix. In my estimation, it shaped him into a better leader than Charles who never seemed to learn from experiences because he already considered himself in top form.

"You'll take care of them?" I asked him.

"Just like you planned to do," Scott assured me. "But what about you?"

"Got Ram. His roommates are a pretty interesting group, and they seem to like me well enough. We're gonna be friends, I can feel it. Murph is comfortable around them, and that tells me something."

Scott remained motionless as I spoke. His suit hung on his body like perfection. Apparently he got them tailored. However, I could not imagine what he saw through those glasses, but it made me feel exposed. No one needed to tell me he judged my honesty.

"I have someone who loves me…"

"Damn right," Ram grunted.

I heard Eric and Japheth snort a little in amusement.

"He'll keep me from falling into myself. I'm gonna be okay, Scott. I promise," I said and hoped I could live up to it.

"I'll be checking up on you just in case. I'm holding you to the promise you call or text or whatever a couple of times a month," he said in a firm voice. "I know you're good about staying in contact with your family, so add me to the Sunday list."

"Jesus, he does know you," my boyfriend quipped.

"Oh, so you're family now?" I tried to tease, but it came out sounding depressed.

"In one way or another I'd like to think so," Scott returned and the skin on his cheeks pulled upward. It meant he frowned a bit.

"Yeah, you made the list a long time ago. You were the only senior member who didn't treat me like some kind of fucking joke," I amended. "But you still didn't tell me the truth about Murphy."

Half his mouth rose as he said: "You'd be surprised how much Charles, Hank, and Logan don't tell me. We had, ah, words about that. Charles swore me to secrecy not to tell you, and I told him every day 'til I went to Sacramento he was making a mistake. I warned him you'd find out and leave when you did."

Scott would not lie to me in this situation, so I felt free to let my mouth hang open.

"Doesn't take a seer to see what's going on. Why do you think I kept coming down to see you in that office?"

"I thought you were… um, teasing me 'cause you always wore the tightest duty suit you owned."

Eric, Japheth, and Ram, this time, let out a grunt of amusement.

"Didn't know these uniforms did that to guys 'til I talked to Ted," Eric said. He barely kept the laughter out of his voice.

"Hot guys? Tight leather? Do think maybe Charles is…?" I asked, lifted a hand, and waggled it back and forth.

Scott laughed and replied: "No, I… I really don't know. I heard he had thing for a CIA agent back in the day but… hmm, I really don't know."

While he continued to ponder and snicker, I held out a hand. I knew Ram wanted to get lunch, and I wanted to get away from the mansion. Scott looked at my hand, then stepped forward and wrapped his arms around me. I hugged him in return. It did not happen often between us, so the gesture meant quite a bit to me. He squeezed me hard with the strength of a man who spent most of his life training and fighting.

"You take care of yourself. Seriously, don't depend on Murphy to protect you all time. Stay sharp, Ted," Scott whispered into my ear.

"I will, and you be a better leader than Charles could ever imagine being," I whispered in return. "You're a better person than him by a long shot, so it shouldn't be too fucking hard."

He chuckled and squeezed me again. We unclasped from one another and stepped back. Scott held out his hand to Ram. My boyfriend took it, and Scott's entire body flinched. I knew what Ram did.

"Okay," Cyclops murmured, shook the hand once, and pulled it out of Ram's grip. "That's no joke, is it?"

"No, sir. Y'all can take that to the bank," Ram replied.

"Well, at least he's in good hands," Scott quietly stated and a small smile played on his lips.

"I'm a trying."

"Gentlemen, let's go in and have a talk with Charles. Maybe this will… enlighten him," Scott said to Eric and Japheth.

I smirked and held up my hand. Scott smiled at me, and then at Ram. Ram raised his hand in farewell as Eric and Japheth moved around us. The man everyone knew as Cyclops and leader his to new recruits began moving through the parking lot. The three bent their heads together, and I wonder what plan they hatched.

"He is one of the good ones, hmm?" Ram queried.

"One of the best," I softly answered as I watched my friend and two former teammates head toward the mansion.


	15. Chapter 15

Grief, sadness, and sorrow take time to lift. The number of times I thought of my two lost friends went beyond count. All the while I tried to integrate myself into the house. I took it upon myself to keep the kitchen clean when not searching for a job. I need to keep busy in order to keep from being chased by memories. The housemates gave me space and time, but would interact with me when I approached them. Every one of them looked at me as though they really did understand my plight. Something told me each could tell a story as horrific and sad as the one I experienced. In this way they began to endear themselves to me, and even Tanner who could never figure out where the joke ended. Despite his annoying habit of jocularity, I liked his energy. Casey, Joel, and Mikey lent points of solidity I could turn to when events started to overwhelm my mind. Nina and Zandy routinely praised me for wrangling the pig sty, as they called the kitchen, into order. At night, Ram held me and we talked until either I fell asleep or wants won out.

To my surprise, numerous companies called or returned my call when they got my resume. Apparently Charles did not hide the Institute with too much precision. Several made offers on the phone, and I noticed a trend after I started going on interviews. Those who wanted to see and speak with me tended to offer a higher salary than those who spoke to me for five minutes and tossed out a number. By the end of the second week following the memorial service, I secured a position above entry level predicated on the results of my CPA exams. When I told Ram, he eyed as though I lied.

"Boy, that's like as much as all the rest of us make put together," he rumbled while re-reading the offer letter. "What the hell are actu… rare… als?"

"Don't worry about it. You think accounting is boring now, wait 'til I try to explain it. I accepted this job 'cause it's different than what I did at the mansion. It'll be interesting," I told him.

Ram narrowed his eyes.

"Okay, for me it will be interesting."

"And y'all start on Monday. How you getting there?"

We stared at each other for a minute.

I cleared my throat and said: "I, um, was hoping maybe I could drive you to the construction site and then pick you up on my way back."

"Could we do it reverse? Need my car to get lunch," he made a counter-suggestion.

"But I don't have to be at the office 'til eight and you start at sun up…" I began the negotiation.

"And don't quit 'til it gets dark."

Ram made a particular face when he got lost in thought. In the preceding two weeks we found one argument where I talked to him while he tried to think. Patience, as some say, is a virtue and Ram periodically reminded me of that fact. After a minute of silence in which I leaned against the dining table while he perused whatever thoughts captivated him, his head finally snapped up.

"Come on," he said and stood. "Know right where to go."

Fifteen minutes later we stood in a used car sales lot. Ram got into a fierce haggle with one of the salesman after he looked under the hood of dozen properly beat-up vehicles. I stood and listened with more than touch of amazement. Ram displayed a ruthlessness in negotiation that would make him a good contracts lawyer. Less than half an hour later he shelled out eight-hundred dollars in cash while he walked next to the salesman who seemed exceptionally put out. Of course, he just sold a used car for little more than half the price displayed on the window. Aside from wheeling-and-dealing, Ram knew automobiles. It surprised me when he said he would buy it after listing a series of flaw I thought would destine the automobile for a scrap heap. Twenty minutes later he walked out with a sheaf of papers in one hand and twirling car keys on the other.

"Here," he said tossing me his car keys. "Boy, y'all is in for a long, dirty lesson… and none like y'all are thinkin' right now."

I snickered as I got behind the wheel of his Miata. He climbed into the late model Tercel. The Miata turned over and hummed. The Tercel complained as it sputtered to live and coughed the whole time. We drove back to the house with me following behind for most of the journey until I finally needed to pass him to get out from behind the cloud of gas-heavy exhaust. Ram drove into the backyard toward the rather ramshackle garage. It leaned to the right in a manner that said someday, and a day not far off, it would lay down and take a nap. Ram climbed out of the Tercel and ordered me to put on the set of street clothes about which I cared the least.

By Sunday evening a fully functioning Tercel sat rumbling happily to itself. The roommates gathered in the backyard to watch. Among them Marrow sat and laughed along with the others as Ram tried to instruct me on general auto repair. A dirty, frustrating, and hot affair meant we sniped at one another continuously through the process: Ram went on about my complete lack of knowledge regarding vehicles, and I lectured him on the role actuarial tables directly played in his life. Despite the bickering, we got the job done. In a fashion I could not explain to anyone, the exercise brought us closer. Each of us seemed to thrive in the adverse situation. Furthermore, I only thought of Doug and Hector every other hour.

"Thought you two fuckers were gonna kill each other at lunch," Marrow said with a giggle while I drove her home in what Ram called my new car. "It's kind of funny to watch him lift up the front of the car."

"Yeah, it got a little tense there, but we got through it. We both sort of believe in not going to bed mad at each other," I said and lightly pumped the brakes while coming to a stop at alight just as instructed until the pads set in. "And now I owe him twelve hundred dollars."

"Eight plus three…?"

"There was some minor stuff you didn't see."

"How long will it take you to pay him back?" She inquired, and I decided to reward her insistence on discovering my salary.

"Second paycheck. That's a little over two thirds of the check, but I don't want to let money come between us. The same with most of the first paycheck going to the house for rent, and utilities, and shit like that. Plus, I'll give Ram a hundred bucks as good faith sign," I informed my dear friend.

Marrow snickered in a way that made me want to stop the car and run away. She visited the house every other day on average, and the housemates accepted her presence. When they heard her battle stories, nobody said a word about her frequent visits. Right then I waited to find out what amused her in such a merciless way. She chuckled again.

"Everyone is demanding to get paid now… at least the ones done with school that Charles keeps around. Man, Ted, you fucked up his system pretty good. Two teams refused to go on missions 'les he agreed to sit down and talk," said Marrow with a health amount of malicious glee.

"He can do the sitting down part. Not sure he's going to dole out the money. He never paid me even after promising. I hope they ring his old man tits," I commented.

My friend let out with a whoop of laughter.

"No, seriously, Ted. 'Tween you demanding to get paid and what you said at… Hector's… memorial sort of started a revolution. Charles can't control it. Oh, check this out, some of the students been standing up to Hank and calling him on his shit."

I felt oddly satisfied hearing the news.

"Some are saying he's a secret mutanist, specieist, and racist."

"That ain't much of a secret," I mumbled in response.

"Probably, but… Ted, you made a change. A real fucking change over there. You should be proud. Scott said that out loud before he left with Eric and Japheth, and Logan tried to start a fight with him," she continued to feed me gossip, and I gobbled it up.

"So… are you living back at the mansion?"

"Naw, fuck that. I go in for meetings and debriefings… training. Then I just hang out for a while and eat as much food as I can. Gonna get a fat ass pretty soon."

I started laughing. I sneaked a peek at Marrow, and she grinned. The chance she would get fat seemed highly unlikely. As with many other mutants who depleted their actual physical body during combat or training, my friend needed a fairly high caloric intake. I saw her drink a gallon of milk in one go more times than I could count. Cheese and yogurt disappeared when she got near. Her chuckling died down before mine, and the way it dissipated made me glance at her.

"Can I ask you something, Ted?" She requested.

"No matter how bad it is, you can always ask," I earnestly replied as I focused on the road and prepared for what could be a monumental broadside.

"Still blame yourself for their deaths?"

Marrow asked in such a small voice it gave me pause.

"Yeah" I heaved after twenty seconds. "You?"

"Yeah."

Silence reigned as I wrestled with emotions that wanted to take over and undo all the work I did on myself for the past two weeks. A long, deep inhale helped me center. Admitting my feeling of guilt and sense of responsibility about their deaths brought a moment of surcease. Marrow drew her knees up, feet on the wore upholstery, and wrapped herself in her long jacket. It served as a security blanket for her at times.

Marrow sighed and said: "Those stupid fuckers tried so hard to protect you. Those weapons those goddamn aliens were using… Jesus, couldn't they see what the fuck was going to happen to them?"

Ram's relentless talks with me regarding what Doug and Hector did of their own volition echoed in my head. He knew far more colleagues that died when he ran with the gangs. Thus, his experience truly outweighed mine. I clung to his counsel like a life-preserver. I repeated in a truncated form what he told me over and over.

"They saw. They knew," I stated after thirty seconds of thinking. "Hector and Doug knew and did it anyway. I don't think either of us could've stopped 'em, Marrow. They were X-Men. They accepted the risks."

She nodded her head. In the lights of oncoming traffic, I saw the glitter of tears on her cheeks. She felt their deaths as keenly as me. Without Stacey, Marrow would be alone. I explained that to the housemates shortly after Ram and I moved to a larger bedroom. They said I did not need to explain. In some ways it seemed like they enjoyed her more, and she seemed to like them. Outcasts tended to identify one other in rapid succession. It worked out well for all of us. Although I think Ram thought she hung around me a little too much, he understood my emotional need.

"At least they're not dying a slow death in the mansion feeling useless," I muttered what I came to believe with all my heart. It alluded to the fact Doug and Hector found their only heroic way out the Institute.

We rode in silence the short distance remaining before we pulled into the driveway of Stacey's home. She rented the left side of a divided house. Unlike the house where I now lived, this one appeared cared for over the years. If and when Ram saw it, he would immediately make plans for our domicile. I put the car in park and twisted around to face Marrow. Her arms wrapped around me before I could blink.

"I miss them," she huffed in a thick voice. "I miss you. I miss us all together. It's a fucking shit show now!"

"No, it isn't, Marrow," I firmly stated into her ear. "They're dead and I hate it, but… it happened. We can't change it. All we can do it try to move on and just admit it's gonna hurt for the rest of our lives."

Marrow cried. I could count on one hand the number of times I saw her cry. The misery and pain in her sobs spoke of her deep sense of loss. I feared she would lapse into her complete and utter hatred of humanity without them to balance her thinking. Stacey remained an unknown quantity in that regard. She, too, harbored a strong loathing of humanity that judge her in such a harsh light. Marrow and Stacey might feed antipathy to one another. Hence, we stayed clasped to one another for a long time. She needed to feel human contact, and I knew it because I needed it as well.

"We're not alone, you know. I'm pretty sure my housemates like you better than me," I told her when she seemed to get control over herself.

"That's 'cause you and Ram fuck too loud," Marrow rejoined through a sniffle.

"We're at the end of the hall now," I protested in the hopes of drawing her into a pointless debate.

"Zandy says she can hear you two yelling what you want the other to do. She said it's like listening to bad gay porn."

I pulled back and stared at her with my mouth hanging open.

"They don't say anything to you guys 'cause I guess this the happiest they've ever seen Ram. Joel told me from the sound of it Ram really likes… whatever it is you're doing him, you fucking pervert," Marrow retorted to my expression and sounded more like her usual self.

In the dark of car cabin I slowly smiled. Half of my friend's mouth twitched. Receiving outside confirmation Ram enjoyed our relationship as much as me made me feel warm. Marrow shook her head a little.

"And I can tell you're happy with him. Never saw you falling for a midget…"

"Marrow!" I called her to task on the word.

"Dwarf, shrimp, little guy… whatever, Ted. The point is I just didn't fucking see it the night you two took off from the bar. None of us… 'cept Stace and Doug thought it was funny and maybe you were getting your rocks off on some new kink. Hector… Hector got mad at them 'bout it," she told me about the reaction of the others I never suspected.

"And you?"

"Fuck, at least one of us was getting laid. You saw me before you left with him, so you know what I fucking thought."

I sighed and said: "I think I'm in love with him, Marrow."

"Dude, we all saw that the second week after you met him. You're more transparent than Hector some…."

Marrow stopped. Her face sagged. We used private in-jokes about one another all the time, and now some hit home with overwhelming poignancy. It hit me as hard as it hit her. Never again would the five of us lounge around the mansion saying terrible things to each other that would set Murphy off if we heard anyone else say it. I could feel a good cry starting to take shape in my chest and head. I could see Marrow heading in the same direction as the light outside my vehicle got brighter and brighter.

"What the fuck?" Marrow growled in annoyance. "Who the…. Shit! Ted!"

I jerked my noggin to the side. Standing a the rear of the car a vaguely humanoid shape waved something at us that emitted a powerful light. Murphy screamed to life in my head. The door to my back opened and a hand tried to yank me out of my seat. The seat belt ended that effort. My senses snapped into motion. It seemed highly likely the hunter holding the gun could cleanly take off the head of the one trying to drag me from my automobile without damaging anything else. A second later the weapon fired and the creature tugging my arm fell backward.

Marrow did not wait for me or Murphy to react. As soon as she swore and said my name, she flung open the door on her side of the automobile. I did not see her launch into her attack, but I did witness my friend driving a foot-long spike of bone through the top the alien's head right after it destroyed it's partner. It's entire form violently twitched causing it to fire the weapon. The shot curved upward and into the air. It felt like Murphy caused that to happen without being directly instructed.

Thirty feet away a greenish-blue glow flickered into being. It then shot straight into the air. My first notion centered on the odds that the craft's engines would overload and explode. I could not begin to calculate how far in the air it traveled when a burst of light catapulted the vehicle higher into the sky and then winked out. My head swung to face Marrow.

"I think you missed," she said as she glanced at me. "Did Murphy miss?"

"Maybe," I answered while tilting my head upward to scan the heavens for signs of debris.  
"Yeah, I think he did. Murph can get close to but not quite hit one-hundred percent. How did you know I was setting Murphy free?"

"You get a look on you face like you accidentally shit your pants and you're trying to figure out a way to explain the fucking smell." Marrow flatly stated.

"Ever the lady."

"Go fuck yourself, homo."

"If I could do that…"

"Yeah, you'd never leave house," Marrow interjected and finished the well-worn joke.

I started to snicker, and she began to laugh. We leaned against the back of my car, the dead body of the alien between us, as the ridiculousness of the situation enveloped us. For several minutes we gave into the mirth not entirely filled with humor. Toward the end, Marrow reached down and grabbed the weapon. In the midst of a chuckle I eyed her.

"Keeping this," she said and wiped tears off her cheeks. "Didn't leave much of mess when it took that other guy's head off."

"You know Hank is going to want it," I reminded her.

"Hank can shove his blue face up his blue ass."

Marrow reached over and snagged me into a side hug while she cradled her deadly new toy in her right arm. I returned the embrace. She always smelled like milk to me whenever we finished a fight. It made sense given what her body could do.

"This is your life now. Know that?" Marrow whispered against my cheek, he skin felt simultaneously rough and supple.

I squeezed her and said: "Sooner or later they'll figure out they can't take Murphy from me with a fight… and he fights pretty damn dirty."

"And the one that got away?"

"Hopefully he… she… whatever it is will spread the word me and Murphy ain't a pushover."

Then I pushed against Marrow until I could see her face. Her eyes narrowed when they met mine. A myriad of new ideas stampeded through my brain. Murphy lay quiescent.

"Marrow," I slowly stated her name, "what if… this is going to sound crazy, but what if none of the other hosts used Murphy like this? What if it was looking for someone… a new vessel that would fight back? All those people warning me not to use Murphy never gave me a good reason why I shouldn't. They were all worried about me ending the universe. I thinking maybe Murphy played the odds and found a species like ours who wouldn't give a shit about the cosmic rules and let it do what it wanted."

"Why do you say that?" My friend skeptically inquired.

"'Cause ever since I stopped trying to stop him from doing… whatever, I can't hear or feel him in my head. He didn't even know that hunter was outside the car."

"Yeah, but Murph doesn't react 'til you do… or you see what might be the threat."

"True," I mumbled and it left me with a huge question in my head. However, my original premise did not go away. "But what about the rest of what I said?"

"I don't know, Ted. This is shit is way past me. I don't give a fuck 'bout what the rest of the universe is doing 'til it gets in my way. You and Doug were the ones who liked to argue all this cosmic… quantum crap," Marrow rumbled.

My head slowly nodded while I found another reason to miss my departed friend. The notion Doug would not be around for me to bounce my ill-informed ideas against like some sentient wall depressed me. Deep down, it added to my list of reasons why I wanted Doug to be gay. Time and again since he died I confronted the fact I loved him as more than just a friend and wanted more than friendship with him. I suspected Ram knew that as well and tread lightly around the subject.

"You should talk to Joel. He's kind of interested in this stuff to. Something about the way his body gets heavier without changing changing shape…"

"Topology?"

"Maybe," she said and shrugged. "But he's in that same league as you and Doug. So is Casey. She is wicked smart."

Marrow provided more evidence she got on well with the housemates. It made me wonder if perhaps there might room for her. Of course, she did not work a paying job. My brain switched gears.

"Hey, make sure you get Sitting Baldy to pay you for the work you do for him," I said.

My friend appeared as if I poked her in the forehead. The abrupt change of topic caught her off guard. Her eyes squinted again.

"Seriously. You and your team get thrown into some of the most dangerous fights…"

"Why do you think I hung onto this baby?" She rejoined and patted the gun.

"They won't let you keep it," I reminded her yet again.

"This is for the fights outside the team… like the one we just had? They won't find any…"

"Jesus, Marrow, I've got to get out here before the clean-up squad gets here," I interrupted as yet another reality intruded. "And you've got to hide that thing, too!"

She leaned over and kissed my cheek in a clear sign Stacey subtly affected her. Then Marrow released me and started to trot away. I waved my arm at her.

"Call me when you get home from work! I want to hear about your job!" She yelled as she ran toward the house.

"I will!" I shouted as I slid into my car.

Later that night I told the Ram and the housemates present about the encounter in front of Stacey's home. Ram looked worried. Zandy shrugged. Mikey appeared as concerned as Ram. I braced myself for their reactions when I explained that Murphy missed the escaping spacecraft. The housemates sat silent for a moment.

"Got away?" Ram mumbled and stared at his hands.

"Nothing is one-hundred percent. Murphy makes sure of that… and he includes himself," I replied and hoped it took the place of a three hour conversation about the laws of probability.

"And you ain't worried 'bout this one, Ted?" Zandy piped up, her words flowed like music around us.

"I'm hoping who… whatever it was will spread the word this vessel fights back and the Focus of Probability helps."

Her dark eyes glittered as a tiny smiled played on her ample and well-formed lips.

"'Sides," I continued when no one spoke. "I kept wondering why why they waited 'til I got to Stacey's. I think somehow they know the people around me fight as well. I'm not just a single target even if two hunters show up to take me prisoner or kill me if I'm here or near Marrow or Stacey. Seven of them are dead, and I'm not."

"But two of yours got waxed," Mikey gruffly informed me of the truth.

"I know, and… god, I hate to admit this, but neither one of them had a fighting power. Not like Stacey or Marrow… or any of you," I confessed to the truth of which he reminded me. "I don't know what it is, but there's a reason why they want to take me alive… or as alive as possible…"

"'Cause Murphy'll take off if they kill y'all, and they won't have nothin' to show for it 'cept startin' the search all over again and a dead body," Ram openly theorized. I stared at him at the same time.

"Yah, yah, man. Good thinkin' there, Ram," Zandy agreed."Them bastards be needing what keeps that t'ing contained in his head… bein' his head. You ain't no good dead to 'em, Ted."

I sat back. More often than not I forgot about the collective history of these people. Most hid a criminal background of one form or another. Hence, they thought along logistical and operational lines. They sized up my situation and thinking as though planning for a strike mission. The group offered further proof Charles, the Institute, and the X-Men in general needed to scrap their current criteria about member admission.

"That makes sense," I mused as I pondered what Ram and Zandy conjectured.

"And I'm willin' to bet a week's pay they know this over at there at the mansion. Prob'ly why they all wanted you to stay. Maybe they wasn't foolin' none when they said they could protect y'all, Ted," my boyfriend further theorized and his words angered me.

"I'm not going back to that fucking prison," I spat. "If my being here is too dangerous for all of you, I'll move. I don't want any of you to get killed…"

"Don't be a dick," Mikey huffed and shifted in his chair. "No one is saying you've got to leave. We know why you left the fucking place."

"And I'll go a step further and say them tuffs are hopin' to catch you alone, Ted. Yah bein' here is just as good as bein' there up at the mansion," the dark-skinned, tall, willowy woman flatly stated.

Three sets of eyes watched me with focused intent. Murphy buzzed a little because I never felt the housemates evaluate me with such scrutiny. It did not last long, but Murphy continued to growl his displeasure in the back of my head. Given I already faced one small group of hostiles that night, it made sense.

"Y'all ain't goin' nowhere, boy," Ram said and ran his strong hand down the length of my arm.

The others watched. I knew they liked how my presence tempered Ram. I heard whispers he could be emotionally volatile in the past. The short, sturdy man never once displayed a temper with me outside of strained annoyance as we worked on my car. I uncurled my hand, and his slid into it. I felt safe.

"But that doesn't mean some of them might not try an all out offensive against the house," I warned as I considered their generosity. "And they could be packing some serious weaponry."

"Only if they want to kill you," Mikey countered. "Hell, I'd like to see anyone try to shoot through Joel when he's at full density."

I raised my eyebrow.

"He says the most he ever used was fifty percent. Damn near took down half a block back in Atlanta. I only ever saw the pictures, but – Jesus – he totally fucked that area."

Ram and Zandy nodded. Apparently they saw the pictures as well. The quick story also told me something important about Joel. His power would make a mess of local physics. Like Ram's fists, the man might be able to withstand a blast from an energy weapon. However, I did not want to risk it.

"I'll run before I let anyone take potshots at any of you. I can't…"

When I halted, Ram squeezed my hand and softly said: "Y'all didn't kill 'em, Ted. That was the work of them hunters. Murphy ain't theirs to take, and what they did is on them. Not you."

"This your home now, Ted. Ain't seen the kitchen clean like that in two years. And you do wonders for that one," she said and nodded toward Ram, "even if you do go on like cats in heat."

Ram and I both blushed. Mikey rolled his eyes. He displayed something less than subtle when when changed bedrooms. His whoops of joy lasted for half an hour, and Casey finally made him shut up. Neither of every realized we made so much noise when we physically engaged with one another. I never seemed to hear it, and Ram appeared oblivious as well. Despite the current state of embarrassment I felt accepted.

"Alright, so we just need to watch out for strangers… even stranger people casing the place… or spaceships… or the Predator," Mikey started listing the conditions requiring our vigilance."

"Not like we ain't been doing that since we got the house," Ram muttered, and I heard a darkness in his voice that would require exploration at a later time. "We can get Casey to add some extra protections."

Zandy agreed to take on the task. Following that it did not leave much to discuss. Mikey said he needed to go to bed, and we all knew Zandy wanted to head out for a few hours. Ram got up from his seat and grabbed my hand. We wound our way through the house, up the stairs, down the hall, and into our freshly cleaned and painted room. The queen-sized bed looked welcoming after the stressful events of the evening.

"Here," Ram said and handed me my phone. I gazed at him with a question. "Boy, it's Sunday and y'all got calls to make. Don't want to hear y'all bitchin' and moanin' tomorrow 'bout how ya forgot."

"Yeah, right," I meekly replied and sat on the edge of the bed.

I stared at the screen of my phone as considered which person to call first. I owed Scott a call and he would be interested in hearing the details of the fight. Then I thought about my brother and sister. They became furious the previous weekend when I told them I might not make it home for the summer. Now with a new job under my belt, it became certain I could not make the trip. I opened the messenger app, opened their group, and asked if they wanted to talk. In less than a minute I got an answer from both.

"Please tell us your coming home?" Mary snapped at me without even saying hello with the conference call got connected and their faces stared at me from separate squares.

"Yeah, Ted, they're weirder than ever and we need someone normal here," Jim grumbled, and he did not sound high.

"Normal, huh?" I replied and mused to myself.

I never told my brother and sister about Murphy, and because of Murphy I could not go home until I felt confident the Focus hunters tapered off. I sighed and shook my head.

"Ted? Why?" Mary demanded.

"Well, for starters I begin a new job tomorrow and I couldn't just say I needed a week off when I got interviewed," I answered.

For ten minutes I gave them the details of my employment situation. That lead into a renewed discussion about the fact I moved out of the mansion and in with Ram. At the sound of his voice, Ram leaned over my shoulder and waved at my siblings. Both seemed oddly stunned by the fact I actually landed a permanent boyfriend on top of the fact he turned out to be a little person. Like they did every time he joined in the conversation, the waved halfheartedly at him.

"Why'd you have to quit and move?" Jim grumped into the phone and slouched against his wall. His face looked sullen, an expression he mastered since he felt that way fairly often.

"You want the real reason or just some comfortable bullshit?" I flippantly rejoined.

"Truth would be nice," Mary blurted.

"Maybe 'cause I'm not a mutant and I couldn't stand living in a house full of 'em who kept looking down on me 'cause of it," I said smoothly and without any notion I planned on telling them the truth.

I heard Ram sputtered.

"Mutants? That big place is full of…"

"X-Men," I interrupted my sister. "It's the headquarters of the X-Men, and I couldn't stand it there anymore."

"Oh, sure. What a bunch of bullshit. Ram!" Jim yelled.

"What?" Ram yelled in return.

"Was Ted living with the X-Men?"

"Yeah, he was," my boyfriend said without hesitation, but his face turned into a mask of worry as he stared at me.

"They need to know now, Ram," I answered his expression.

When I focused my eyes on the phone I saw the startled looks of my brother and sister. I said: "I'm not a mutant. They tested me, and I don't have the gene for it."

"You're not making this up, are you?" Mary asked and dropped her normal defensive mode.

I shook my head back and forth.

"Do Mom and Dad know?" Jim asked, and he adopted Mary's regular paranoid tone.

"No, but someone… the leader of the X-men made them forget. It's why they started acting so weird after I moved out here," I told them the truth.

"I knew it! I knew it!" Marry whooped and both looked and sounded relieved.

"This is true?" Jim asked again, and I could see it disturbed him.

I nodded my head.

"But why did they keep you there if you're not a mutant?" Mary brushed aside Jim's confusion.

"Well… remember all that strange coincidences that happened around me? Like when Ed Turner's bike wheel fell off after he slapped me in the back of the head?"

My siblings took their turn nodding. Each witnessed that event. Ed Turner split open his head when he crashed against a fire hydrant and needed eighteen stitches to close the wound. The memory lived vividly in my mind because I did not feel any pity for Ed who routinely liked to picked on me.

"It wasn't any accident," I stated.

"Oh, I suppose you want us to believe you made it happen? Thought you aren't a mutant?" Mary barked at me.

"I'm not, but the thing living in my head… sort of… doesn't make me one…"

"What thing?" Jim inquired and his voice remained extremely flat. His eyebrows made a valiant attempt to meet over the bridge of his nose.

The last couple of months prepared me to deliver a short but concise accounting of Murphy and my role with the Focus of Probability. The more I talked, the more slack entered the visages of my siblings. Their mouths hung open a little when I told them about Brightstorm who tried to counsel me and the other aliens who wanted me and Murphy. They went into information overload by the time I finished.

"They're hunting you?" Jim muttered and, strangely enough, sounded worried about me. He normally reserved his concern for himself and Mary in that order.

"Yeah, except I'm fighting back, and I don't think any of them expected that. The general theory is they need me alive or else Murphy will just take off across the universe and find someone… something else to be his host," I explained what got discussed with the housemates less than a hour before.

"He's pretty bad ass," Ram said as he crawled onto the bed and leaned into frame. "Those alien hunters were dropping dead and killin' each other faster 'an lightning."

"You're saying Ted is bad ass now?" Mary burbled in clear disbelief. Her face scrunched up as she tried to digest that bit.

"Well, him and Murphy together. One of them fellas came after him a few nights ago, and, boy, he got squashed flat," my boyfriend informed them with far more glee than I wanted to hear.

"What?" My brother and sister said in unison.

Ram told the story of our trip to The Royal Schooner. Jim and Mary listened in silence. Their eyes flicked back and forth between Ram and me while he spoke. Ram did not embellish the tale and made it sound routine. He finished by stating, and I quote, that I iced two more that very evening.

"How many? Totaled?" Jim inquired and narrowed his eyes.

"Nine, but Murph missed their ship. I'm hoping whoever got away tells everyone I'm putting up a fight. Maybe they'll leave me alone after a while," I added my part that I really wanted my siblings to know.

"Jesus Christ, you're gonna get yourself killed… just like Doug and Hector," Mary ground out the words.

The statement hit me hard. I felt myself recoil, and Ram's hand ran down my arm and gripped it. My sister did not say the words to hurt me. She seemed scared in general and in particular.

"Y'all just listen right now," Ram stepped up. "Them boys died protecting y'all's brother, so don't be saying shit about 'em. They was two of his best friends!"

"I know what you're saying, Mary," I rejoined and shoved aside the sorrow springing to life in the my mind. "But if I don't fight they're just going to take me and do… who the hell knows what they're going to do, but I can't let 'em get Murphy. I can't let them use him to do… whatever they want to do."

A somber mood settled over us. The bed squeaked a little as Ram shifted and sat next to me. His hand came to rest on my right thigh, and he squeezed it in a comforting fashion. A stray thought informed me my family rested safe on the other side of the continent. For the first time ever I felt as though we needed that distance. I could not stomach putting them in immediate danger.

"It's 'cause of Hector and Doug I'm not coming home," and I began to articulate my thoughts.

"He's protecting y'all by not going back," Ram completed the idea for me. "Ted's been all mopey and down 'cause he won't be spending any time with y'all, but… this is just as hard on him. He told me 'bout the times when going home kept him from going crazy. But I think he's right: them alien hunter's are gonna figure out real fast Ted and Murph ain't gonna put up with their shit. I don't think they want to die, either."

I lowered my right hand and slid it over Ram's.

"So… how long is this going to last?" Jim managed to ask a salient question even though he seemed even more depressed.

"Couple of months. Maybe half a year, I hope. By that time I'll have enough vacation time to come out there and see you," I told them my general plan.

Jim looked doubtful and Mary skeptical. I stared at them one after another. They looked away when I did. Anger, disappointment, and resentment fill their lives for almost four years. It bound us together as siblings. I missed them. I loved them. That love, however, anchored me to New York. As long as a continent rested between us, my family would not make a likely target to use against me. I sighed.

"Dammit," Mary swore. "Dammit, Ted, is anything ever going to be normal again?"

I gazed at her face, then at Jim's, and lastly at Ram's. It struck me this became my new normal. For my siblings, it became a new and possibly terrifying odyssey as their elder brother dealt with situations almost in defiance of their imaginations. I sighed and gripped Ram's hand tightly in mine. I returned my eyes back to the smart phone screen.

"No, Mary, nothing is going to be normal again," I told her. "Shit, was anything ever normal?"

After five seconds I saw small smirks start to crack this visages of my siblings. Ram nudged me with his shoulder. I spoke the truth, and it gave me a sense of power Murphy never could.


End file.
